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((Corridor near Astrometrics, USS Atlantis)) ::It was the middle of the night, ship's time. The ill-fated reception had ended hours ago, though Sovak had not been required to attend. He had been busy realigning Astrometrics sensors and programming data collation. Grunt work, but an efficient use of his programming skills. That work was interrupted when the Grenushi ambassador's clouds broke loose.:: ::Sovak had suffered the same effects as other telepaths aboard. He still wasn't sure something weird hadn't happened that he didn't remember - he certainly hadn't been in control of himself - but at some point in the episode, he'd had the sense to follow the shipwide announcement from Commander Mitchell and report to Sickbay. A nurse had assigned him a neural inhibitor set, and he'd been released to quarters.:: ::Now, hours later, he was back on duty, determined to complete the task he'd been assigned. If he couldn't finish a sensor realignment in a timely manner, he was never going to be considered for more important duties, let alone a bridge shift. It wasn't like with Ren, who got to be on the bridge all the time. Sovak was in the business of computer systems maintenance and analysis, and to anyone but a computer systems analyst, he seemed to belong out of sight.:: ::It was the middle of the night, ship's time. On Vulcan, on the part of Vulcan Sovak had lived the longest, it was late afternoon just now, when the shadows from the mountains lapped across the desert like the rising tide. He'd been happy there for a time, in his childhood, before his uncle sent him away to the kohlinar school. He'd been told it was illogical to attach emotional importance to a place, to pin his well-being to a room, or a house, or a particular street or town. So long as he had logic and control, he would thrive in any setting. But he always missed his home, and when the kohlinar master was hardest on him, he missed it all the more.:: ::After years of training that was more intense and thorough than most Vulcan youths received, Sovak had failed to master the control of emotion required of him. It wasn't as though he hadn't tried. He'd gone to great lengths to meet the expectations placed on him by his uncle, his family, his peers on Vulcan. He'd tried everything to be the man they expected him to be. But something in him always made him fall short. The more he tried to control his emotions, the more he found himself exploring them, and feeling them, and reaching the logical conclusion that they were a part of him and shouldn't be denied. He failed to find control, he got angry about it, he fell on his face, and he had to start over. Over and over again.:: ::The whole thing made him so angry, so frustrated, that he could feel that distant proto-Vulcan inside him fighting its way to the surface. He wanted to hit something, to take that anger and throw it forward through his arm to the end of his fist. He wanted to damage something, though he didn't know what. Usually when he felt this way, he found time in the Holodeck to play Parrises Squares. He'd long ago decided that the most logical use of his aggressive tendencies was to channel them into athletic competition. It always made him feel better, and put his mind back in order, too.:: ::But there was no way to get to a Holodeck now, or even to the gym while so much was happening on the ship and he had a task to carry out. He thought for a moment he might punch the wall, feeling that frustration going through him, but he knew he would be the one called to repair the damaged LCARS screens. Someone would probably see him do it, too, and he'd feel foolish and ashamed, which would make him feel bad about feeling such emotions, and the whole cycle would start again. It made him so angry! The feeling welled up inside him, and he couldn't control the physical expression any longer. He'd punch anything, even the air in front of him. It built up, and he couldn't control it. Expecting his fist to meet to resistance but that of the ship's thin atmosphere, Sovak threw the punch.:: ::He shouldn't have done so near a corner in the corridor, because, as it turned out, someone was coming around it at an unsafe speed. Sovak's fist connected with a handsome green-eyed Terran face that reeled backwards from the blow. The attached body staggered and fell, red hair flashing away in a blur. RAVENSCROFT: Oww. SOVAK: Lieutenant! Are you injured? ::It was an illogical question to ask a Terran who had just been punched in the face by a Vulcan with superior strength. However, the man had not entirely lost consciousness.:: RAVENSCROFT: I’ve.. ::hacking:: been worse.. ::Sovak was immediately embarrassed, horrified by the result of his action. He tried to exercise his usual façade of Vulcan stoicism, but it seemed pointless now. That wall had obviously come down.:: SOVAK: I will assist you to Sickbay. RAVENSCROFT: Sickbay? Nah.. ::coughing:: They have their hands full.. ouch.. already.. SOVAK: Then I will locate a medkit and assess the damage. RAVENSCROFT: Okay. ::Sovak had helped the man to his feet, and retrieved the PADD that had clattered to the deck. He held it out, offering it back to the man. Sovak's anger was gone for the moment, but it was replaced by a long list of other emotions, and at the top was embarrassment that showed in the green blush of his face. It was the middle of the night, ship's time, and Sovak had a feeling tomorrow wasn't going to be any better.:: Ensign Sovak OPS USS Atlantis NCC-74682 simmed by Ens Ren Rennyn

((In a shuttle in space attacking a Borg cube)) :: Tal adjusted his flight path. As he had expected the Borg had not fired on him so their seemed to be little point in his continuing to tax the shuttles maneuvering systems when the enemy seemed to be ignoring him. :: :: Tal doubled checked the distance from him to the shield that was protecting the Borg cube. Soon… very soon in fact at the speed he was travelling so he reached over, tapped a couple controls and brought up the next song. Just hearing it brought back memories of that beach front tavern that Jason had always been dragging him to back at the Academy. After every beach volleyball game they would relax with a few drinks and enjoy the ancient music that the tavern was famous for. In all honesty it had been the only reason Tal had always joined Jason there afterwards. :: :: Good memories. Maybe his last if this stunt failed. He aimed the shuttle right at the center of the Borg shield, waited a few moments and then pressed the firing button for the shuttles phasor, holding it down as he felt a big smile appear on his face. Sometimes the universe did have a sense of humour he thought as he listened to the music. :: Music (Pat Benatar): =/\= Hit me with your best shot and fire away…… =/\= :: Tal held the firing button down, a continuous stream of energy leaping forward from the phasor emitter to strike the center of the massive Borg shield. Nothing happened! :: :: Time seemed to slow down as his shuttle continued to hurtle towards certain doom. As it did Tal had the absurd thought that in a few moments the 2 female Marine pilots would get a very graphic demonstration of just what happens when a bug hits a windshield. :: :: For a moment he almost pulled up, but he ignored the momentary twinge of illogical nerves. Even when the red light started to flash warning him that the phasor was about to malfunction. This had to work and if not then the USS Apollo was doomed. It had about as much chance of surviving an attack by 2 Borg cubes as it did of flying through the heart of a star. :: :: A loud annoying beeping sound started as the red light went from flashing to solid. The phasor beam fluttered in and out, then died as Tal glanced down at the console in front of him to see what the scanners were detecting. Borg shield was down to 9% but the power level was starting to climb back up as…. :: KER, BLOOWEY, CRASH, !!!!!!!!!!!! :: The shuttle slammed into the Borg shield doing warp 6, the Borg cube was traveling at warp 8.5. As expected the Borg shield won the match, but not by much. The shuttle broke through but the front half was totally destroyed, the metal compacted, twisted, smashed beyond repair. :: :: It’s speed was greatly reduced, a large portion of its left warp nacelle was gone, ripped off in the impact and it’s limited atmosphere was vented out into space from multiple holes, fractures and through the shattered forward viewport. :: :: What was left of the right nacelle was barely producing any propulsion and that was giving it the credit of the doubt. For the most part the shuttle just drifted towards the Borg cube, moving more and more towards the one side as it did so. :: :: Bells were ringing, weird flippant bells that were giving Tal a massive headache. He tried to open his eyes, something did not feel right. Where was he? :: :: Somehow Tal managed to force his left eye open, he was face down on what he thought was the floor, something tugged at his waist and left leg, slowly growing weaker as it did so. He pushed, feeling weak, his arms did not want to respond. It made no sense but he knew he had to move… why??? :: :: Forget why just do it he thought, pushing, feeling a massive wave of nausea sweep over him. One that had him puking in seconds. His head pounded, it was hard to think and for some reason the puke stayed floating in front of his face. :: :: He managed to roll onto his side, his vision blocked, blurred by the puke. Why was he wearing a helmet? He had to remember, it was important. He tried to shake his head to clear his mind but that only made it worse. He felt weightless, was he in space? :: :: He reached up to wipe his face, his hand stopped by the visor, visor? He was wearing a helmet. Why was he wearing a helmet? Nothing made any sense. He needed to see, he fumbled for the lock device at his neck, his hands clumsy, lacking control, feeling his way by memory more than anything else. :: :: He heard the click, the release and started to pull the helmet off. The puke, air, everything in the helmet was violently sucked out replaced by a cold so deep, so frigid that it instantly made his teeth chatter. It was like dunking his head in the arctic ocean, even the moisture in his eyes started to freeze. Without thinking he pulled the helmet back on, flipping the lock, wondering why he had been taking off his helmet in the first place. :: :: As the helmet refilled with oxygen his mind cleared enough for him to remember. He was in a shuttle; he had collided with the Borg shield. Somehow he had survived. Was he inside or outside of that shield? He had to find out and he had to do so now. As he thought about it he realized that he had to be inside the shield. At the angle he had been approaching if he had not been able to punch through the shield the entire shuttle would have been destroyed. As it was it must have been a close thing. :: :: Still he had to be inside the Borg shields and he still had a mission to complete so Tal tried twisting around until he was able to see that the shuttle was a complete write off. The [...]pit and all the controls were destroyed and there were numerous holes in what remained of the shuttles outer hull. His left leg partially lodged into one of the bigger holes. He was on the ceiling, rammed right up against the anti-matter warheads which were no longer so safely secured in place. :: :: Obviously the trigger mechanism was destroyed, so was the transporter. It was beginning to look like this whole mission was a complete bust, failure. :: :: He forced himself to sit up. Having to wriggle and squirm as he did so as he had very little space in which to move. It also revealed the fact that his suit had become damaged. Tal reached down to his waist, pulled off the repair kit, removed the small container and pressed it against the damaged section of the suit. It took about half of the sealant but he thought he had fixed the problem. :: :: He hoped so. Now that he was thinking better he needed to assess his chances. See if there was any way he could possibly salvage this mission. Problem was he could not see anything from where he was and what little he could see was destroyed and useless. He had to get outside the shuttle, see what he could see. :: :: Looking around he could see that there was no opening big enough for him to get out. He reached to his waist feeling for his phasor pistol but it was gone. A quick glance around showed that he had no idea where it was. :: :: Now what? He doubted that he had the strength to force an opening in the metal. Not the way he was feeling and he seriously doubted that he could have even if he had been in perfect shape. So how was he going to get out? :: :: Everywhere he looked he saw destruction, everything from the front half of the shuttle was completely destroyed. How he had survived was a puzzle. As far as he could figure the fact that he had removed the backrest from the pilot’s seat had probably saved his life. Other than that…. It was a mystery. However that did not solve his problem. :: :: A sudden wave of nausea washed over him and he had to fight to prevent vomiting again. His mind was not working right, fading in and out. He had to have some internal injuries. It was the only thing that made any sense. He closed his eyes, tried to relax, to slow his breathing, his pulse. :: :: After a few moments he opened his eyes. He still felt like crap but his mind was clearer. Hopefully that would help. It took a few moments for him to realize what he was looking at. There just in front of him was the buckled, shattered, destroyed side hatch, or at least what there was left of it. That was not what had caught his attention. What had were the activation controls for the emergency hatch release. Basically a set of tiny explosive charges designed to blow the hatch off in an emergency. :: :: He reached forward, groping for the activation switch with 2 fingers, reaching, pushing, wriggling his fingers trying to activate, to hit the button. :: BBBOOOMMMBBBBB!!!! :: A sudden explosion blew shrapnel in and out of the shuttle. It also created a massive jagged hole, one that he might be able to fit through if he got lucky. Unfortunately a glancing blow had damaged his visor. Now not only did it have puke residue it was cracked with a fine network tiny spider lines. :: :: Something else was wrong. He glanced down to see a large chunk of metal stickling out of his left leg. His blood was already starting to leak out and float off in tiny little bubbles. :: :: Tal grabbed the chunk of metal but forced himself to stop before he pulled it out. That was a sure fire way to bleed to death. He spotted the canister of repair sealant floating nearby. It looked damaged, probably in the explosion as it had been working perfectly just a while ago. :: :: Tal managed to reach it, pull it closer and inspect it. Pain was starting to flair our from his leg. He had to do this and do it now before he passed out so Tal yanked the metal out and activated the canister. Nothing happened, so he smashed the jagged piece of metal covered in his blood against the top of the device, again and again. Suddenly the top broke off and the contents started to come out under pressure. :: :: Tal stuffed the end into the rip in the suit and felt a hot flash of intense pain as the chemicals in the sealant, sealed off both the wound and the hole in the suit. In reflex to the pain he crushed the canister in his fist, forcing the last of the goo out onto his leg. :: :: Tal had to fight to get his breath back as the waves of pain threatened to wash over him, drowning him in a flood of agony and nerve shattering delirium. Slowly it passed but even before it had Tal started to move, to pull himself forward, swimming through the weightless interior of the craft until he had managed to wriggle out through the hole. :: :: Now he could see. He was close. The towering shape of the Borg cube took up almost all of his vision until he turned to look around. In the distance he could see the USS Apollo, still fighting but even from this distance he could see that it was badly damaged. :: :: This distance…. There should have been no way for him to see the USS Apollo. Not just by looking. They were getting closer. This cube was going to the aid of the other one. The Apollo must be winning. Now more than ever he had to trigger the anti-matter. There was no way the Apollo could survive the attack of the 2nd cube. :: :: Looking around Tal spotted the photon torpedo attached to the rear of the shuttle. It had not deployed as it should have, probably because the impact destroyed the controls before they could activate the release. It looked damaged but maybe it still worked. :: :: He forced himself to crawl over the exterior of the shuttle, hand by hand. As he did he could tell the cracks in his visor were getting worse. The residue from him puking was flowing across the interior of the visor to collect along the thin spider web of lines. He had to hurry. No telling how much longer he had and a quick glance up showed they were getting closer to the main battle. He could now see tiny bits of detail on the Apollo. He had to hurry. :: :: He reached out, his hand touching the exterior of the missile. Using it to pull himself closer, examining it as he did. It was damaged, scratched and dented but still seemed to be in one piece. That’s all he needed. :: :: Tal pushed, forcing it to move, feeling the pain ripple through him. He definitely had internal injuries. He was going to fail, the Borg were going to win, to assimilate him…… :: :: NEVER…. Rage ripped through him, the pain serving as fuel. He would die before letting those [...] parasites get their hands on him… He pushed, ignoring the pain, ignoring the weird sensations inside him, pushed with all he had, like his life depended on it. :: :: The torpedo shifted, altered its angle. Not as much as he wanted but enough that his idea should work. He had to rest for a moment, breathing deeply as black spots danced in front of his eyes. He was going to pass out. He could feel it. He fought it, desperate to stay conscious. His hands fumbling with the torpedo, snagging the damaged side panel, ripping it open so he could activate it. :: :: Nothing happened, the torpedo just lay there. The Borg would win after all. Tal glanced up to see the Apollo take a massive hit, one that seemed to do more damage than it could take but the edge of the Borg cube blocked out the details, preventing him from telling just how bad the damage was. :: :: In a fit of rage Tal kicked the torpedo, again and again. The sudden activation of its engines ripped him free from the outer hull of the shuttle as it started to pick up speed, being pushed haphazardly towards the center of the massive cube that towered over him. :: :: He had to get away. Now that his mission was completed he had to escape. He reached down, feeling for the controls for the propulsion unit. His fingers felt weird and the black spots were back, dancing a weird hula dance before his eyes. :: :: The controls had to be there. He could feel the propulsion unit still on his back so he kept fumbling at his waist. He could barely breathe. That didn’t make sense. He had a 4 hour supply. He must have lost more oxygen than he thought… that or he was losing some now. Who knew how many holes there were in his suit. :: :: Suddenly the Borg cube seemed to drift away from him. He must have hit the controls… it was nice out here… so peaceful…. The stars were fading… everything was fading… for some reason his mind drifted back to the music… he had… given the Borg his best shot………………………………………………. :: Cmdr. Tal Tel-ar Chief Operations Officer USS Apollo, NCC-71669 Director of the SDC

(( Private Quarters of Nienne Kenoi; USS Garuda)) :: The color scheme for her new quarters were cream and mauve with accents in a muted green and she approved. Sort of. It was soothing enough and feminine. Alright but not quite what she wanted. No, what she wanted, really wanted, were hardware floors and floor to ceiling windows that let in lots of light and a workspace for her art. She wanted those beaches that turned this lovely shade of pink as the first tendrils of dawn worked their way up into the sky. She wanted that one turquoise wall in her bedroom that always made her mother cringe when she happened to walk in.:: :: Sort of. :: :: She was Rodulan and Rodulans remained on the home world; in her head, were the voices of her parents and brothers and friends and all of them were saying the same thing. And it wasn't go out into space and have adventures. In her head, was the litany of things that it was proper for a good Rodulan to want.:: :: So yes, she wanted things like that turquoise wall and the sandy beach and the floor to ceiling windows, but to be entirely fair, she wanted them here. On board the Garuda and not back there. There was ... :: :: Known. :: :: Predictable. :: :: Safe. :: :: She wanted more. Always had. And she had found friends that felt the same. Those had been exciting times. Clustered around campfires on the beach, collective dreaming, far from the worried and frowning visages of parents and elder siblings. But when the time came to make the dreams they'd shared real, she had been the only one to take the step away from what was known and safe and predictable. That had been a surprise. A sadness that she held close. The end of innocence because ...:: :: People lie. :: :: People dream out loud but often ... too often ... that dreaming is enough. :: :: And she had believed. :: :: There had been pre-med and then medical school on the home world. The first step away from the safety of home. Then Starfleet Academy. She had gone alone and cried that first night. Cried for the dreamers who chose to let their dreams die in the name of ... :: :: Safety.:: ::A predictable life.:: :: Now, all these years later, she could banish those voices in her head easily enough. :: :: She was no longer the naive girl who'd snuck away to the beach. :: :: She sat cross-legged on the floor at one end of the wide wooden coffee table that was generally used to display books and hold up food and drinks or on some occasions, even feet. She used it for her art. There were sketchbooks, drawings, graphite sticks, a small knife, and erasers scattered about. And then there was the basotile. Blues and greens and just a touch of purple. :: :: She sat, hands on her thighs, and let her mind open, let her thoughts flow outward, to enfold its shape. Time slowed, disappeared from conscious thought, while her mind traced the graceful curves and introduced new windings. It was harmony. It was a dance. It was an expression that reflected what she was at this moment. It was ...:: :: Her. :: :: And in its intricacies, it would never be exactly the same again as she would never be precisely the same again as she was in this moment. Her mind stroked, cajoled, encouraged, and the basotile took shape, flowed in response.:: :: She would be known as this moment would be known for any who could understand and appreciate. :: Ensign Nienne Kenoi, M.D. Medical Officer USS Garuda

((Sickbay, USS Atlantis)) ::The Captain entered the cubicle and nodded to the nurse, then to the Kylon.:: BLUEHEART: Is he fit to answer a few questions, nurse? NURSE: response BLUEHEART: ::smiling somberly:: I promise to make it short. NURSE: response :: He shook his head in slight amusement. As if the current situation was going to stop him from talking. Dancing perhaps, and definitely not going rock climbing... but talking he could manage. :: BLUEHEART: Thank you. ::turning to the Grenushi:: Telnoth. ::noticing the neural inhibitors in place:: How are you feeling? ::His eyes darted to the monitors and consoles.:: :: The question was so polite and immaterial that it made his stomach turn. Now was not the time for polite diplomacy :: HAERIN: I am fine Captain, though the situation is urgent. BLUEHEART: So, tell me, Telnoth, ::seating himself on a chair by the bedside:: tell me everything. HAERIN: No. The entirety of things isn't nearly as critical as the immediate. I'll start there. :: That was not what the shorter man wanted to hear. Something that just.. ticked off the Grenushi. Here he was, trying to save their lives.. :: BLUEHEART: ::shaking his head in defiance:: Not when my ship and the lives of my crew are at stake. They matter more to me than diplomacy or politics, any day. So I’d really like to know everything, Telnoth. EVERYTHING. ::He leaned back in his seat, crossed one leg over the other and clasped his hands together on his lap.:: And I suggest you start at the very beginning. :: This hadn't been a good day for Kylon. Oh it had started out as one, with the federation officers almost following a script in attempting to see what he'd brought on board. But their release? Which, if he was any judge, would pull them from warp. And doing that would put them at greater risk, which meant the peace talks wouldn't receive their gift.. oh and likely they'd all die here instead. So, he allowed the frustration, just this once, to slip out. There was none of the calm, reserved Ambassador in his reply. Instead, the scorn and sarcasm would heap at the man's feet until he could meet Kylon eye to eye. :: HAERIN: Oh Really Captain? Is that what YOU want? Sure.. let me spin you a yarn to use the Terran phrasing. Perhaps hand you a fiddle? BLUEHEART: HAERIN: Well don't you want to play while Rome burns? The situation is.. you short minded idiot.. that if your people hadn't attempted to breach protocols this wouldn't be happening. But now we don't need to replay history, but actually salvage things. So forgive me if I really couldn't care less in what you would like! BLUEHEART: HAERIN: Good. The creatures are a gift. We developed a means to capture them from the cloud, and put them into a form of stasis. And, as energy creatures, they are able to be comfortably compressed into the box. BLUEHEART: HAERIN: Several dozen. Each of which, while sharing traits with each other, are noticeably different from each other in mentality. Additionally, they share some of the traits of the Jenatris cloud in that they appear to mutate and change at times and seemingly based on those traits. BLUEHEART: (TAg) Telnoth Kylon Haerin Ambassador MNPC as simmed by Lt. Cmdr Luna Walker FO USS Atlantis

((Blueheart’s Quarters, USS Atlantis)) ::Dreams never follow a coherent sequence.. :: ((Dreamscape – flashback to stardate 238908.22)) ((Il Diavolo Blu, Living Museum District, Sigma Iotia II)) BLUEHEART: We have a reservation. ::The girl was in her early twenties. She had on a glittery sheer sleeveless blouse that extended to just below a small waist. A similarly colored pleated skirt barely covered her knees, seemingly attached to her blouse via a loose-fitting silver chain that functioned as a belt, perhaps. Her pitch black short hair stuck to her scalp in undulating rivulets, held in place with an ample amount of mousse and a beige hair band with a large silver flower on one end. She had thin lips, painted a deep blood red, to compliment her rouged cheeks. Her violet eyes sparkled as she nodded to the gentlemen and turned around to draw and hold open heavy scarlet velvet drapes. Raj and Emerson spent a full minute to take it all in. Red. Nearly everything bled, oozed and dripped red. From tablecloths to tea-light glasses, the curtains all around the room to the walls themselves, the rose-scented candles to lamp shades, the suspenders on the men playing in the band to roses worn by the waitresses. All varying hues and species of red. Raj nearly squealed in delight. The pretty girl in the sheer-colored fluid dress escorted them to their table before duly departing. Raj was aware of stares directed at them, and having a table in the middle of the room didn’t help to divert some of that attention. Emerson, on the other hand, was fully aware and basked in the stolen glances and intimate whispers suddenly having sprung all around them. The band played a lazy, bluesy number. All the players were dressed in black shirts, black pants, black fedoras, and narrow red suspenders. Whirls of blue smoke drifted languidly to the chandelier-decorated ceiling above, like lifeless jellyfish. Most of the male patrons of the club were evidently middle-class as ascertained by their outfit of jackets and vests and suspenders and fedoras, smoking cigars and slim cigarettes, but there were a number of upper-class gentlemen present as well, dressed in top hats and tuxedos, smoking pipes and drinking brandy; women with elegantly coiffed hair strung with pearls, or in beautifully crafted cloche hats, smothered in mink, ermine, fox and chinchilla, draped on their men’s arms. Emerson helped Raj into his seat before taking a seat himself.:: BLUEHEART: ::reaching out across the small round table to tighten the noose of Emerson’s tie:: There. Perfect. ::Emerson wore a dark olive green thin-lapelled jacket and vest with matching straight-cut slacks that ended slightly above the ankles. Raj was initially hesitant about green altogether, fearing it might make him look like a leprechaun, but the final ensemble was well worth the risk. Underneath the vest he had on a crisp white shirt buttoned at the wrists with ivory cufflinks. His tie was a solid mauve and hid behind his vest. Slicked back with a ton of hair gel, the red-haired xenolinguist almost looked bald, not having his luscious curly tresses running wild. But this was well camouflaged with an olive fedora with a thin camel band around its circumference. Raj had stuck a dappled partridge feather on one side of Emerson’s fedora, and he admired this ingenious accessory ever so often. The first officer had on a similarly tailored midnight blue vest and trousers, over which he threw on a matching jacket that had barely-discernible mauve pinstripes. He also wore a lavender shirt underneath with a solid magenta tie, and a midnight blue homburg with a broad mauve band. A nine-inch golden pheasant tail feather stuck to the left side of his hat completed the outfit. Both men wore polished black-and-white banded shoes with white socks, as was the what-was-I-thinking fashion of the era.:: WAITRESS: Drinks, gentlemen? ::Her multiple droopy silver necklaces chimed against the table.:: BLUEHEART: Absinthe for me. RAVENSCROFT: ::giving Raj a curious look:: oO Seems the Prohibition doesn’t extend to this part of town. Oo Red Death. Oh, and bring me a cigar. BLUEHEART: ::after the waitress sauntered away:: You don’t smoke. RAVENSCROFT: Neither do you drink anything stronger than wine. BLUEHEART: ::grinning mischievously:: ‘Tis a good night for recklessness! RAVENSCROFT: oO If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s drunk already. Oo ::chuckling:: You’re not having a midlife crisis are you? BLUEHEART: What? ::He laughed.:: RAVENSCROFT: You want to prove to the young jay-gees that you’ve still got it by getting drunk, getting laid and getting into a bar brawl? BLUEHEART: ::sly grin:: Getting laid isn’t so bad. RAVENSCROFT: ::smirking:: Unless it’s with the Captain. BLUEHEART: Ack! RAVENSCROFT: What! I think the Captain cuts a dashing figure.. for a two hundred-year-old. BLUEHEART: ::wide-eyed with disbelief:: He’s my commanding officer! It’s inappropriate! Besides, he isn’t my type. RAVENSCROFT: Well, that didn’t stop a certain--- BLUEHEART: ::scolding:: Hey! RAVENSCROFT: When you’re drunk, you’re drunk. ::shrugging nonchalantly:: Things happen. BLUEHEART: ::narrowing his eyes and glaring at Emerson:: Then I had better keep you on a very short leash, lest you stray. RAVENSCROFT: Ooh a leash. Kinky. ::The waitress returned with their drinks and cigar. She waited until Emerson clipped off one end before lighting it. Emerson fished out a wad of greenbacks and handed it to her with a complimentary wink and a tip of the hat. She giggled and bounced away.:: BLUEHEART: ::rolling his eyes:: Aren’t you going to pinch her bottom? RAVENSCROFT: Good idea. Then you can spank me for being a naughty, naughty boy. ::Emerson inhaled on the cigar, unsuccessfully suppressing a paroxysm of violent coughing, then exhaled a cloud of blue-grey smoke above his head. Raj stared at the absinthe spoon and sugar cube set aside by the waitress next to his shot of the green alcoholic drink. Ignoring the accompanying paraphernalia, he downed the entire glass of absinthe in one gulp and turned red as a lobster, breathing through his mouth to let unseen flames escape his scorched esophagus.:: BLUEHEART: ::mildly breathless::Wow! RAVENSCROFT: ::frowning, amused:: I’m pretty sure that’s not the way it’s done. BLUEHEART: ::waving at another waitress, a brunette this time, with his empty glass in the air:: Seems like there’s a lot of things I don’t know--- ::He stopped abruptly and stared blankly at Emerson.:: RAVENSCROFT: ::after a few silent seconds:: Well? Go on. The suspense is killing me. BLUEHEART: ::to the returning brunette waitress holding a bottle of Spanish absinthe:: Leave the bottle, dear. ::Emerson fished out another wad of bills and paid her handsomely. Returning his gaze at Raj, he found him already downing his second shot straight up, coughing and hacking afterwards. Emerson gently reached out across the table and placed a warm hand over his friend’s.:: RAVENSCROFT: ::in a soft, endearing voice:: What’s really going on here, Raj? ::The band struck up an up tempo number. There was applause all around and little squeals of delight and giggles of excitement. Middle-class ladies and gentlemen, women clinging to their long necklaces cascading down their necks, in front of their dresses, and men holding on to their fedoras and tugging on their suspenders, left their tables and rushed to the area in front of the stage on which the band played. They danced. The women’s slinky dresses shimmering like diamonds as they spun, kicked and gyrated to the fast jazzy number. The men’s shoes made rhythmic taps and clicks on the well-polished hard wood floor, their moves just as smooth, just as passionate. The movements were so fast Raj couldn’t tell if the dancers were doing the Charleston, Lindy hop or black bottom. The dance partners came together only to separate. The men twirled their gals over their heads, over the floor and around their waists. Those pouty lips. Those swaying hips. Strong muscular arms on delicate porcelain skin. A frenzy of flailing arms and legs, synchronized and coordinated. Raj felt the blood rush into his cheeks. His heart pounded in tandem with the bass. His soul wailed with the horns. He stood up, straightened his back, breathed excitedly, and removed his jacket, letting it fall onto the back of his hardback chair. He reached out his right hand for Emerson. With his posture slightly askance, his left arm bent behind his back and his right outstretched before him, he was not unlike a cavalier goading his opponent to a duel.:: BLUEHEART: ::with passion and fire in his eyes and charm on his lips:: Dance with me! ::And so began the duel.:: ((End dreamscape/flashback)) TBC ====================================== Commander Raj Blueheart Commanding Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682

((Conference Room, Deck 1)) ::This was a mutiny! There were all against him! He was completely shocked that they would try and do this to him. Had he not been a good and honest Captain to him? Where was the gratitude and loyalty? :: ::Commander Greir Reinard was not himself and he couldn’t understand why everyone was questioning him. He couldn’t think properly or see past the red mist. He had never behaved like this in his life and everyone in the room seemed to know it was uncharacteristic of him too. :: Reinard: Oh no you don’t! ::Breathing heavily and getting more agitated:: Mutiny! I won’t have it! ::He thought he could trust these people, so why were they doing this to him? It didn’t seem right or fair to him! :: Falcon: ::Voice still calm, but nervousness working its way in.:: Sir, this isn’t mutiny. We’re concerned for you. That’s all. Thomas: ::Keeping his eye on the Captain, Kael addressed the Counsellor.:: Commander Brice, you’ll be accompanying the Captain to where he wants to go. ::That sounded more like it. They were going to do what he wanted. He lowered the chair a little so it wasn’t raised high above his head. He was glad they had remembered their place. :: Brice: Where? Thomas: He wants to go to the Brig, we’ll escort him there. But first I need to organise to get him there. ::Wait what? What did they mean by ‘organise to get him there’? weren’t they going to walk like normal people? He’d been putting the chair down but stopped as he suddenly became suspicious and paranoid all at once. :: Reinard: Hold on a minute. What are you doing? We are going to the brig right? ::He meant to go and talk to Bo’Sun. He didn’t know why but he strongly felt that’s what they needed to do. If this was a mutiny though as he now felt it was… maybe this was a trick to put him in the brig! He had never thought Commander Thomas capable of such treachery. How could he make such a poor choice in him for first officer when he was normally such a good judge of character? He’d never felt so betrayed in his life and it hurt badly. :: Thomas: =/\= Ensign Block, lock onto the Captain and Commander Brice, and prepare to transport. Confirm when that is done. =/\= ::Greir started to raise the chair again. He wasn’t planning on escorting him anywhere! He was only locking on to Brice and himself. She was the only one who could back him up and stop Thomas. His actions were out of order!. :: Block: =/\= Locked on sir, where am I sending them? =/\= Thomas: =/\= Listen carefully and when I’m finished do it immediately. Transport the Captain and Commander Brice, ::now speaking as quick as he could be understood.:: to sickbay and place the Captain behind a containment field…NOW! ::Greir gave an almighty roar of pure rage and swung the chair back over his head, preparing to flig it with all his might. Unfortunately the transporter beam took him and the momentum the chair had gathered send it flying backwards towards the door..:: ((Sickbay - Darwin-A)) ::As soon as Greir materialised in sickbay he slumped to the floor. The transport had made him feel disoriented and he was completely surrounded by an energy field. He felt like it was pressing him into place. Worse still he could feel the energy fields from the warp core and the freighter becoming stronger. He was desperately afraid and needed to get out of here as quickly as possible. :: ::He could hear voices behind him and got to his feet, using the biobed as a support. He began to get his bearings again. He’d never fielded this much all at once and the fact that he couldn’t control it and filter out things like normal was pushing his freak out button. :: ::That wasn’t what was making him so angry and aggressive though, although it was a contributing factor to his emotionally turbulent state. He could think clearly, he didn’t feel himself and he was all too mindful of the problems he’d suffered as a child. He was certain something had gone terribly wrong when he’d banged his head. :: ::Now he was trapped in a place that was lit up worse than the city of Bondi had been and there was no countryside to retreat to. If his nervous system got too overloaded with it all then he could be paralysed or maybe killed. He felt more and more sure, with the pain in his head and growing nausea that the worst would surely happen. :: Manius: Captain, this is Dr Manius, can you tell me what’s wrong? I want to help you. Reinard: ::In a panic:: Make it stop! It’s killing me! ::Was there anyone on this ship that would help him? Maybe he’d had it too good for too long and the price for everything great he’d had in life was an early and painful exit from this stage in the cycle. He wasn’t ready to cease being yet. There was still so much he wanted to do! :: Manius: What’s killing you? You have to tell me or I can’t help. ::Greir strained to focus and think hard to try and explain the problem. It should have been a simple matter to express but he’d become riled up way beyond a point where he could control himself, even with all of his years of training in counselling. :: Reinard: The energy fields. It’s too much! You have to drop the energy fields ::It came out as a terrified plea. His fielding had reached a point that had he been asked to find anything on the ship freighter or immediate area, down to the smallest energy weapon he could find it in a heartbeat. He was unprepared for it! :: Manius: ::Speaking urgently:: Ok I’ll do you a deal. You lie on the biobed and I’ll drop the containment field. ::Greir paced around. Lie on the biobed. Lie on the biobed. Lie on the biobed. It sounded so simple. For the first time since this had all started he felt like he knew what he had to do. That it would lead to something good happening made it all the more appealing. :: Manius: Captain! Lie down on the biobed! ::Right! Lie on the biobed. Now would be good. He stopped his pacing and did it immediately, trying to calm his breathing down so he didn’t hyperventilate. Sure enough the containment field came down and there was one less thing assaulting his senses. Maybe this could work. Greir wanted another deal like that. One that led to another, bigger switch off. :: Manius: Just like I said sir, the containment field is down. Just try to remain still and calm. ::What, no deal? Greir couldn’t handle that. Was he supposed to just lie here and die? No. There was only one thing for it, he had to get away. He needed to get as far away from the Darwin as possible, by any means. :: Reinard: ::Urgently:: I need to get out of here! ::He sat up suddenly, with wide panicked eyes. He lunged at Dr Manius, the man who stood between him and his continued existence. There was a struggle as Greir tried to get past Manius and out of the room. The man had grabbed him and intended to put him back on the death bed. He was just as much a traitor as the rest. :: Manius: ::Strained:: Computer! Re-erect containment field! ::Greir freaked out and screamed right in Todd’s face. He had no regard for anything or anyone else and was furious that his freedom had been denied. Already feeling angry and aggressive this latest mood stoked the fired and he finally crossed the final barrier, assaulting Todd by violently striking him, hard in the face. The instinctive move had left him exposed and a small hiss by his ear indicated the Doctor had succeeded in pumping him full of drugs. He felt extremely tired all of a sudden and with it the powerful emotions seemed to fade into the background as he slumped to the floor and sleep took him.:: Tbc! Commander Greir Reinard Commanding Officer USS Darwin-A Cadet Steward: UFOP: SB118 Academy

((Holodeck 2, USS Atlantis)) ::"...back in a bit," Kirosa had told him. He wasn't sure that was true. For a moment, Ren stuck to his place in the tree, watching the Orion ensign launch through the air, descending on the Kalar with her hunting knife high. She seemed to move in slow motion, suspended there too long before making contact with the beast, but at the same time it all happened much too fast.:: ::There was a moment when Ren was distracted by the realization that he'd cut his foot open at some time during his escape from the Kalar. It was a good, long, deep slice, the kind that only now, minutes later, was beginning to show signs of blood. His mind only focused long enough to register the wound before his eyes and all his senses jolted back to the scene below. Kirosa was butchering the Kalar.:: ::The thing held its attack briefly, seemingly too stunned by the feeling of the blade to do anything else. The ferocity that read on Kirosa's face and the intensity of her rage sent Ren scrambling down towards her, despite the first sting of pain finally appearing in his foot as he climbed down the tree. He didn't know her, but he wasn't about to let her hurt herself.:: RENNYN: Computer! Restore safety protocols! Kirosa... ::He made it to the ground almost as quickly as he'd climbed up. The attack was ending in the Kalar's pitiful retreat.:: RENNYN: Ensign! ::He watched, waiting for any sign that she'd heard him. The power of her fury was frightening, but he had to admit there was beauty there, seeing her in her element, standing powerfully, breathing deeply, watching her prey loping away into the jungle.:: ::All at once, Kirosa's tense posture relaxed and she sheathed her knife in her boot.:: KIROSA: Computer, Freeze Program. Arch. ::The computer complied, and, grabbing her jacket and vest, the Orion woman made her exit with hardly a glance back at Ren.:: KIROSA: Holodeck's all yours Ensign... ::She was gone.:: ::Ren stood in place, stunned by what had just happened. His foot was bleeding now, dark, thick blood from deep inside, and the pain of it had caught up to him. The holodeck would self-clean, but someone would be out on the deck scrubbing the carpet after he walked himself to Sickbay. Around him, the frozen program of Rigel VII's jungle seemed to stand in as much confused silence as the Trill himself. The sounds of creatures far and near, the surrounding rustle of leaves were gone. The slight breeze that had punctuated the jungle's close, still air had ceased. Even the feeling of humidity seemed to have disappeared, replaced by the ship's normal ambient air quality. Only the visual representation of the dense jungle remained, eerily motionless.:: ::He sat on the ground where he was, favoring the injured left foot on the way down, only wincing once as his foot began to realize the extent of the pain. Ren took off the ridiculous Hawaiian shirt, exposing the Trill spots on his arms and torso to the nullified, dangerless jungle. He tore the shirt into a useful piece, then wrapped it carefully around his foot, binding the wound long enough to walk to Sickbay and have it repaired.:: ::Ren looked at the closed door inside the arch, a few meters away. He wondered where Kirosa had gone off to next. Her day was going from bad to worse, she'd said. He barely knew her, but he hated to see anyone in that much pain. He might have run after her if it hadn't been for his foot. Not that it was her fault he'd blindly walked in on her program without so much as finding out what was running - that was on him. And he'd had worse injuries than this by far. But one person's fit of anger could lead to another's harm, usually someone peripheral, someone not targeted or even thought about. The little bits of collateral damage that can radiate from one person's pain and rage, someone else's wound to carry. Ren might have been the victim this time, but, laying back on the jungle floor for a moment's rest, he thought of one time he'd been the one to cause pain...:: ((Flashback - Starfleet Academy - 4.5 years ago)) ::Ren's sister Alin tugged impatiently at the sleeve of his cadet uniform. In her own matching uniform, they could almost have been twins, except he was taller and broader, not to mention ten years older than not only her, but most of the other cadets on the San Francisco campus too.:: ALIN: Rendal Arnom Rennyn, get your rear in gear! Come on! ::No Rennyn had ever been to Earth that they knew of, but the two of them had arrived together following a disastrously long trip from Trill that, after a series of transfer mishaps, had threatened to make them late for first muster. Arriving in time had meant a sleepless night sitting up in a shuttle with a helpful but talkative Centauran who had agreed to ferry them on his supply run into the Sol system. They'd had to land with him in Alberta and beam themselves through a series of public hubs to reach San Francisco in time. The whole journey had been exhausting.:: REN: What I still don't understand is... what supplies did he need from Alberta? ::His feet were dragging, his eyes swimming, and worst of all, despite his best efforts to suck it up and be his normal friendly self, he was cranky.:: ALIN: Never mind. We were supposed to have taken our room assignments an hour ago. Hurry! ::They were half walking, half running across the campus, trying to appear dignified with all their bags hanging from them. Cadets all along the way stared at them.:: REN: Alright! ::He'd snapped the word out more sharply than he meant to. He could have used a shave and two bites to eat before reporting. But they didn't have the luxury.:: Sorry. I'm hurrying. Watch me get stuck with someone obnoxious like a Ferengi. ::He couldn't help grumbling.:: ALIN: Don't be rude. You have low blood sugar. Just try to be nice. ::Hoisting a wayward bag to her shoulder, she threw him a mischievous glance.:: Besides, they'll obviously pair you with the only person who can really drive you crazy - a Vulcan. REN: Don't even say it! Give me anyone with warm blood in his veins and I'll find a way to get along with him. Heck, I've met cold-blooded lizards I didn't mind. But not a Vulcan! ::On a normal day, he'd have been more reasonable about it. He didn't have anything against anyone, really. Certainly not just because their race was emotionless. Sure, he couldn't quite understand that, but he'd only ever met a few Vulcans anyway, so what did he know. Alin was right, he was just hungry and tired, and his behavior and thoughts were becoming unreasonable. Once they got inside, he'd put his bags down and relax a minute, and act like a grown man.:: ::As quick as they could, they arrived at the large gathering hall where the day's arrivals had been told to report at 0900. It was 0947 in San Francisco, and the majority of cadets in their cohort had already been welcomed, introduced to their roommates, and sent off to settle in before the afternoon matriculation ceremony. Only a few uniformed enlisted staff remained, along with a lieutenant in charge, and one patiently-waiting human cadet named Lois who launched herself at Alin.:: LOIS: Are you Alin Rennyn? I've been waiting for you! ::The lieutenant stepped forward with a slightly annoyed yet good-natured expression.:: LIEUTENANT: Our latecomers, I presume. Cadet Rendal Rennyn and Cadet Alin Rennyn? ::Ren and Alin both gave their best Yes, Sir.:: LIEUTENANT: At ease. I'm pleased to welcome you both to Starfleet Academy. Especially since it looks like you had an extra long trip from Trill. Miss Rennyn, your roommate has been waiting patiently for your arrival. I'm glad you joined us when you did. ::Ren glanced around as Alin and Lois broke off into their own excited chatter. He noticed that no other cadets were waiting there. Had his roommate been sent on already? Dared he hope that he'd have a room to himself? He hadn't been looking forward to rooming with some 18-year-old kid, despite how much he liked Alin and his other younger sisters and brother. The drained exhaustion he was feeling didn't make him any more likely to overcome his annoyance. He focused on holding himself together. He could practically have fallen asleep where he stood. But the Lieutenant and the others were watching him, and he forced himself to behave.:: LIEUTENANT: Mr. Rennyn, if you will wait a few minutes, your roommate has only just stepped out. He'll return in a moment. My crew and I need to be elsewhere by 1000, so we're leaving you to your own devices for the moment. ::He handed Ren a padd.:: Here's your roommate, your room number, your cadet number and everything you'll need to get started. Ceremony's at 1330, don't miss it. Good luck, cadet. ::The lieutenant joined the crewmen who were already at the door, and the group exited, leaving Ren alone in the big room with Alin and Lois.:: ALIN: Is it a Vulcan? ::Ren's sister bounded over to him, teasing him, riled up with all her youthful excitability. Ren, letting all his exhaustion show again now that the lieutenant was gone, activated the padd and took in a sharp breath.:: ALIN: What? I was kidding. ::Ren tried to calm himself with a few deep breaths, but couldn't. He showed her the padd, shaking it fiercely for emphasis.:: REN: They have to be joking. A dang, cold-blooded Vulcan! ::If Ren had slept a little the night before, his mind might have been clear enough to stop him from saying something so rude. If he'd had a bite to eat in the last 26 hours, he might not have felt too anxious to keep himself calm. If he hadn't had to wander the streets of Alberta in the first cold light of dawn looking for the public transporter, he might have had a shred of sympathy left to look beyond his own small needs and remain a member of polite society. All he had was exhaustion. He was worn down to that basic, instinctual version of himself that everyone becomes now and then when their body and mind are unrested to the tipping point. Though he'd tried, he had failed to overcome the unreasonable emotions flowing through him.:: ::His sister's horrified expression set off his alarms, and Ren found his unkind words hung thickly in the air as he turned and saw a Vulcan face that would one day be very familiar to him. That first time he saw Sovak's face was the first time Ren realized that it might be possible to hurt a Vulcan's feelings after all.:: ((Holodeck 2, USS Atlantis)) ::Ensign Rennyn lay bleeding from his left foot on a frozen-in-time Rigellian jungle floor, dressed in nothing but brightly-colored swim trunks. If that was a metaphor for something, he couldn't work out what.:: ::He'd been caught off guard by Ensign Kirosa's erratic behavior. The fury in her knocked him for a loop just to see it, but he had no idea what her struggles might be. Maybe whatever was getting to her was a lot worse than Ren could know; or maybe this was just one spectacularly bad day out of many good ones. Despite their moment together up a tree, he still barely knew her. And he'd learned the hard way not to judge a book by its cover...:: ((Flashback - Starfleet Academy - 4 years ago)) ::Ren was several months in to his time at the Academy, and he was flourishing. Back home in Arnmere, he'd had a good life, a happy one, but there were no starships for him to fly, beyond a holo simulation. His sister Alin was doing incredible work in her classes, already catching the eye of certain science faculty who appreciated her unique approach and keen perception. Ren, while not among the very topmost pilots in his class, proved capable in all his coursework, and was having the time of his life learning the skills he would need in his new life with Starfleet. Even those in their family who had objected to their leaving home had begun to come around, and life seemed to be headed in a wonderful direction for Ren and Alin.:: ::Only one aspect of the experience left Ren disappointed. His relationship with his roommate, Sovak, the Vulcan he had managed to thoughtlessly insult the first moment they met, remained a major point of stress and distraction. It wasn't that Sovak had retaliated in any way. He didn't appear to hold a grudge, or resent the Trill, or even complain. On the contrary, the Vulcan had gone out of his way to do none of those things. In six months, he hadn't mentioned the incident once. It made Ren feel terrible.:: ::The Trill man worried over it constantly. Where he came from, people said what they meant, talked it out, then moved on. They weren't exactly on a Betazoid level of openness, but for a non-telepathic race, they were fairly open. It bothered him that he never had a clue what Sovak was thinking. It made him worry that whatever damage his careless comment had created was festering and growing, shut up tight in the Vulcan's heart where no one could go to repair it, maybe not even Sovak himself.:: ::Now, on what would become one of their most memorable nights, the two sat at the desks in their dorm room, each slogging through his own mountain of homework.:: SOVAK: Ren, it is 1800 hours. Do you require nourishment at this time? ::From day one, Sovak had been trying to serve plomeek soup to the Trill. Ren loved his vegetables as much as the next farm boy, but couldn't imagine a Vulcan dish would be anything but bland. He kept his face neutral out of respect.:: RENNYN: No thanks, buddy. SOVAK: I am replicating plomeek soup. RENNYN: I figured. Look, I'm just going to pass on that this time, okay? ::Sovak moved to the replicator and keyed in his order.:: SOVAK: You pass every time. ::The comment wasn't unfamiliar to Ren's ears. That was exactly what had been worrying him. Sovak possessed all the logic and emotional reserve anyone would expect of a Vulcan, but sometimes, just every now and again, he'd make some off-hand comment that seemed to serve no purpose but to criticize Ren. Barbed words with little jagged edges intended to cause damage. The only logical conclusion was that Sovak was angry with the Trill, but Ren couldn't prove it. Every time he tried to broach the subject, Sovak found a way to shut the conversation down. It was immensely frustrating.:: ::Ren had been studying navigational maps for class, and it had occurred to him that conversations, just like navigable space, could be mapped. You start from a known point, where you have your bearings, and than you take off toward a far place that, even if distantly visible from the start, may turn out to be foreign in completely unexpected ways. How do you get there? How do you know which turns to take, which to avoid? How do you prepare yourself for what you may find? If you take it slow, carefully charting the spots between your starting point and the desired destination, you might just get there in one piece, maybe with a better understanding of what lies before you than you had at the start.:: ::This was the day he was going to navigate past the usual barriers to Sovak. Ren began to plot his course.:: RENNYN: You sound annoyed. SOVAK: I am certain I do not. ::Sovak carefully made no sign of irritation, but he did push his soup away without eating a bite.:: RENNYN: I wasn't raised to let a man's words trump what I know he feels by looking at him. SOVAK: You are fond of telling me what you were and were not raised to be. I was not raised to express annoyance. Nor was I raised to "feel." ::Ren squared himself to the Vulcan so they were talking face to face.:: RENNYN: Sovak, I'm going to talk to you now. Because I don't know if you've been punishing me on purpose, or if I'm projecting that on you, but I feel terrible about what I said when we met, and if you've gotten to know me at all, you know that I didn't mean anything like that. ::If he didn't know better, he would have said that Sovak "scoffed.":: SOVAK: I would not allow a personal misunderstanding to negatively impact my educational objectives. Institutions of higher education exist to provoke critical thinking and social discourse, to challenge ideas and opinions with the intent of invoking questions and inspiring debate. ::That didn't even really make sense in the context. Sovak was trying one of his usual distractions, talking an intellectual circle around the point. Ren navigated a bypass back to the topic.:: RENNYN: But not to bring people together to insult each other. SOVAK: In our modern cross-cultural social age, it must be accepted and, in fact, expected that social difference will influence the matter of most discourse. Your lack of regard for my cultural heritage was therefore neither unexpected nor surprising. After all, though Trills are known for their curiosity and thirst for learning, your background in an insular community with little cultural variety has naturally left you with certain biases. RENNYN: Now who's being judgmental? ::Turning away, he stopped himself from saying more. This is where Sovak always got to Ren and ended the conversation. He'd say something that made the Trill angry, then Ren, afraid of being just as uncivil as he had the first time they'd met, would shut his mouth and stop talking. A few silent days later, they were back where they started.:: ::But Sovak had a solid point. Ren thought about Arnmere, his out-of-the-way village on Trill. His cousin's husband was half-Betazoid, and there was an old Centauri couple down at the end of Raybrin Way, and maybe half a dozen more aliens from around the Federation. But by and large, it was a Trill community. Ren had flown up to the Orbital Station many times over the years as he practiced to be a pilot, and he'd spent an hour or two there when he could, soaking in the eclectic mix of cultures that passed through. But none of those people from other planets went to Arnmere, the little village stuck in the past, like something out of the 23rd century. And other than Ren and Alin, not many of the town's citizens ever left. They were all stuck in their patterns and habits, and they all could use a little shaking up. That was one of the reasons Ren had left - to be shaken.:: ::Ren buckled down, thinking of his conversational map. Taking a cue from the Vulcan, he did his best to suppress his emotions. He was determined this time to find a way, to navigate another way through this conversation on a path somewhere between their usual routes of quiet anger and furious silence. After six months at this dance, it was time for an apology.:: RENNYN: That first day we met... what I said about you... What I mean is, I've found that I really enjoy rooming with you. I just... I've wanted to apologize. The bad-mouthing was uncalled for in every sense, and I'm sorry. ::A long silence ensued. He'd stumbled and he'd stuttered. He'd probably done it all wrong. It wasn't as though he expected a hug and grateful tears, but he had hoped some bit of the tension between them would be released. Sovak's face twitched in a way that Ren supposed looked thoughtful, then returned to a bland mask.:: SOVAK: It would be illogical to allow my studies here to suffer under an increased stress level based on interpersonal conflict. RENNYN: That's the thing - there is no conflict here. At least, there doesn't have to be. I said something stupid about Vulcans, and you've given it way more weight than it should ever have had. There was never any reflection on you. All it proves is that I'm capable of being an idiot, which, let's be honest, has never been a matter for doubt... SOVAK: You are suggesting that your hurtful comments, your apparent distaste for Vulcans, your abject incivility, was merely a misappropriation of words? A sentence said in error that meant nothing to you? An off-handed remark that you would like to have forgotten as soon as it left your mouth? ::The Vulcan's face had twitched again several times. It almost looked to Ren like real anger, but the voice was perfectly calm. When you make an apology, you have to be prepared to take a little punishment. Ren stayed calm himself and accepted Sovak's judgements.:: RENNYN: I would rather have stopped it before it even left my brain. It was a terrible thing to say, and I hope you weren't too hurt by it. ::He'd almost forgotten he was talking to a Vulcan, and maybe that had been another foolish thing to say. There was a six-week course on Vulcan culture and beliefs that he'd been thinking of taking the next year. He certainly needed to sensitize himself to the Vulcan way.:: SOVAK: I was hurt. ::The comment came softly, and was so odd that it didn't immediately occur to Ren what he had just heard. His eyes grew wide and he tried to keep his jaw from dropping at the realization that he'd just heard a Vulcan admit to feeling.:: ::Sovak's eyes watered with sudden emotion, and it was the saddest sight Ren had ever seen. He tried to say something, but no words came.:: RENNYN: You-- SOVAK: Please! ::Sovak turned and exited the room, not running, but hurrying faster than Vulcan dignity normally allowed. Ren couldn't begin to think about whether or not he should follow.:: ::So there it was. It had only taken Ren Rennyn six months to force a Vulcan to an emotional breakdown. He stood uncertainly, wavering between advance and retreat, between compassion and self-doubt, the sad realization slowly sinking in that no map in the universe could have guided him through this conversation...:: ((Holodeck 2, USS Atlantis)) ::Trills are a curious bunch, like cats in the old Terran adage, or varks at a well, as the Bolian phrase goes.:: ::Not every Trill wants to be joined. In fact, great numbers of them never once consider it for themselves. But every Trill child, their future undetermined, is treated by their community as a potential candidate. They're taught in school to quest for new information and fresh perspectives. They're encouraged by family and mentors to embrace the unknown. Anyone might become a candidate in adulthood, and the culture supports the idea that the best candidate is the one best prepared to take the most from life's varied experiences. Ren's parents had never pushed any of their children to seek joining, and no joined Trill had lived in Arnmere for a century at least. Ren himself had never really thought about it seriously, even when faced with the alluring idea that your personality and experience would live on in the symbiont after your life came to a close. Yet even in a place as backward as Arnmere, little Ren Rennyn was taught to ask questions and push boundaries, to explore the wondering ideas his inquisitive nature presented him with. For the people of Trill, curiosity is a virtue.:: ::Laying flat on his back in a swimsuit on a simulated jungle floor, elevating his bleeding foot, Ren figured he'd taken the idea of uncovering new experiences too far. That was life. It puts you in situations you could never see coming...:: ((Flashback - 4 years ago - Starfleet Academy)) ::When Sovak reentered the dorm room he and Ren shared, his pained, dejected face had been replaced with the stoic expression typical of Vulcans. Ren had been on the point of packing a few things and going to stay with Alin and Lois for the night, just to give Sovak some space. He'd obviously pushed the Vulcan too far. He'd been so selfishly caught up in getting himself forgiven, he'd gone and made the problem worse, and that was bad for both of them.:: ::Sovak didn't let him leave, not wasting a moment before saying what he'd come back to say.:: SOVAK: I apologize for my outburst. It was unseemly, and I did not wish to cause you discomfort. I perceive no reason to discuss the matter further. ::Ren shook his head. Something in Sovak's perfectly placid expression didn't add up. It was the eyes. They had been crying, and that always shows.:: RENNYN: You don't have to be sorry. I upset you, and I apologize. ::Ren's compassionate side rooted him to the spot. It wouldn't let him drop the subject now any more than his Trill curiosity would allow him to lose out on finding out how a Vulcan could cry. He couldn't help it. If they were going to have a cultural exchange here, then Trill curiosity was naturally going to enter in to the matter.:: RENNYN: And I don't mean to gape at you like a fish from a bowl, but Sovak, I'm surprised. I didn't know Vulcans had emotions. ::Sovak sat down, stood up, opened his mouth, and sat down again. Taking a deep breath to calm his apparently frayed nerves, he explained.:: SOVAK: Vulcans seek to control their emotions. The logical foundation of that statement cannot escape you - we seek to control emotions, because we have emotions. I have studied since I was a child to learn the ways of t'san s'at, the measured control of emotion. It is a journey all Vulcan children take, and most master the guiding tenets of the practice by the time they reach maturity. I... I have barely begun to achieve it... ::On the last sentence of his speech, Sovak's voice held a distinct quavering tone. There was no mistaking the look that had returned to the Vulcan's face, the watery quality of his eyes. Sovak was fighting back tears again.:: SOVAK: As a boy, I was unable to achieve the same level of control as my contemporaries. I often found myself indulging in aggression at play, or feeling sadness when faced with mundane rejections or failures. My uncle sent me away to a school -- ::Here his voice broke, and Ren thought that if it was anyone but Sovak, he'd already have his arms around their shoulders in sympathy. With this Vulcan, he couldn't think how to proceed. The experience of seeing a Vulcan in tears was just too stunning, and he didn't know if the contact would be welcome. Sovak continued on his own.:: SOVAK: My uncle sent me to a place where children are instructed in a more severe version of t'san s'at, a monastic school which specifically guides initiates toward kolinahr. It is a common misconception that all Vulcans are masters of kolinahr, the ritual purge of all emotion. Many do not go so far. As my uncle has told me many times, some Vulcans simply lack the wisdom for it. Those will always fail. ::Ren didn't know what to say. The shame his roommate felt was palpable, evidenced in every aspect of his crest-fallen stance, his carefully forbearing words, his quivering expression of noble self-denial. It was no small thing for Sovak to admit to his experiences with emotion, let alone to display it, but he clearly couldn't hold it in any longer. This poor man had been struggling for years to be someone he wasn't.:: SOVAK: I am still young, Ren. There is hope for me to change. There is... great pressure on me to achieve an appropriate balance of control. One tactic I have employed is to make a study of intense emotion. When I chose you as my roommate, I did so because you are a passionate man. I thought I could attempt to position myself opposite you, to become less emotional by viewing emotion externally. ::It was an awkward admission, and the logic was a little bit sideways, but Ren couldn't help thinking that it wasn't a terrible approach. Then it hit him.:: RENNYN: Wait a dang minute... What do you mean "You chose me"? ::Sovak halted in his tracks, like a kid caught out in a lie, one who'd said something more than he meant to.:: SOVAK: I-- I... ::Ren felt the color rush to his face, setting off the Trill spots around his temples like Gorosi hunting cats on a field of blood. He didn't remember being given any choice in who his roommate was. He was pretty sure that wasn't how it worked. The only explanation was that Sovak had rigged it somehow. Probably went through all the cadet files and figured out which innocent victim's passionate emotions he wanted to study. This dang backwards Vulcan with his sideways logic and his "study of intense emotion." Ren felt like his last six months had been scripted for him, like all his choices had been taken away by this dang backwards hot-blooded illogician with heat in his brain and a heart full of badly-calculated automatic nonsense. He opened his mouth again and again to say all that, or some more colorful variation, maybe adding to it with fire and brimstone and the vein in his forehead popping out. He was steamed, and hot ire billowed up through him, ready to burst into a fiery tantrum that was going to teach this hopped-up hobgoblin a thing or two about passion!:: ::Then he saw that look on Sovak's face, and it all drained out of him in an instant.:: SOVAK: I am sorry. I identified you out of all potential cadet roommates as my best chance for success. Had you arrived early on our first day here, you would have found me prepared to ask for your cooperation. It took several weeks to gather the courage. Since you were late, I had to make the arrangement myself by effecting several trades with other cadets and making thin excuses to the assigning lieutenant. Then I felt ashamed and was afraid to tell you. RENNYN: You chose me. ::Ren's forced his voice to soften. He couldn't tell if he was angry about this or not. A Vulcan admitting to fear? Of a simple Trill country boy?:: You chose me. Let's be honest, you probably got the shorter end of this stick. SOVAK: No, that is untrue. RENNYN: Look Sovak, I'm not happy to hear about this, but I get it, ...I guess. At least, I know you've had a tough time of it, and I can't blame you for trying to do something to make it better. ::Sitting down next to the Vulcan, Ren followed the instinct he'd been denying all along and put his arm around Sovak's shoulder.:: RENNYN: Sometimes I'm so full of feelings, I don't know what I'm going to do with them all. ::Sovak said nothing right away, thinking carefully awhile before he spoke.:: SOVAK: Sometimes I wish I could feel more. Mostly I wish to feel less. RENNYN: That sounds like living to me. You know, Sovak, we might turn out to be good for each other. It's not a bad idea to have someone in your life who balances you out. I know I could do with someone to teach me a little restraint. ::He heaved a sigh, half resignation, half relief. Life really was a course through unknown space, and it was funny where that course had led them.:: RENNYN: Like it or not... I choose you, too. ((End Flashback)) ::Holding his injured foot up had been a good idea; Ren had stopped the thick band of blood flowing from his wound before it could soak through the bandage made of his torn Hawaiian shirt. He wouldn't need to treat himself with the emergency medkit in the Holodeck, or call Sickbay and ask someone to come to him. He was going to walk his way there and have the wound treated, and, though he might get hollered at by Dr. DyAmone for showing up in Sickbay looking like a refugee from a beach party disaster, all physical traces of the damage would vanish before the time came to attend the banquet for Telnoth Haerin.:: ::Even the deepest cut could heal, but not every wound healed so fast. Sovak's troubles didn't go away overnight. Four years on, and they'd survived both the Academy and cohabitation. Now they were posted to the same ship in a far distant sector. He didn't think Sovak had rigged anything this time, getting them both placed on the Atlantis, but he wasn't ever going to be completely sure of that.:: ::They were like two ships in space, Ren Rennyn and Sovak. They'd navigated their way to each other from vastly different regions, but now they traveled in tandem, like a convoy. That was a metaphor he could wrap his brain around. They might not get where they were going as fast as they would have separately, but they'd by stronger together along the way.:: ::Pulling himself up from the ground, Ren called for the computer to end Kirosa's program, and the Rigellian landscape shimmered out. Ren limped a bit, walking on the heel of his left foot to avoid further damage. After all his refusals, Ren had tried plomeek soup eventually, and now it was one of his favorite foods. The Academy course on Vulcan culture and beliefs had done a lot for him too. Sovak had learned to face his fears instead of fighting them, but that was another story. From this moment on, whatever happened next on their journey, Ren knew that nothing ever stayed the same for long. That course he believed he was navigating through life was moving ever forward into fresh, uncharted space.:: ::He didn't mind. He liked to explore the boundaries, to ask the questions, to shake up what needed shaking and break through to a new experience. Blame Trill curiosity for that.:: Ensign Rendal Rennyn Helm Officer USS Atlantis NCC-74682

((Waltas Estate, Ba'ku Homeworld)) ::The wizened eyes locked onto his in the way they always did; the way that smashed through his emotional walls as if they were made of paper. He never could maintain that penetrating gaze, not when he was ten years old and accused (rightfully) of scattering an entire coop of chickens across the village by riding a small wolf through the building, and not at 244 years old when he told her nothing was wrong and that he wasn't leaving.:: LYNTHA: They came for you. WALTAS::Toeing a small hole in the ground with his boot, he answered in the same voice he had when asked about the chickens:: Yes. LYNTHA: And you're going. WALTAS::More quiet now:: Yes. LYNTHA: Good. ::He looked up, meeting the gaze this time of his mother. Confusion clouded his features.:: WALTAS: I thought you'd be the last one to say that. LYNTHA: Tyr, you've been miserable since you retired. This world contains wonders that most people would treasure but you..you've never been snared by them. You may have taken your first steps here, Tyr, but your heart.. ::She placed her hand gently on his chest:: Your heart is among the stars. You know this as well as I do. WALTAS: I thought it was over. I thought I could stay here. LYNTHA: You could no sooner stay here than you could cage that eagle or wolf you brought home with you. Eagles must fly, Tyr. Wolves must run. And you...you have to be out there. ::She broke his gaze and looked up at the starlit sky, a single tear sliding down her cheek:: No matter how much you will be missed. ::There were no more words needed. He embraced her, as he had all those years ago. Then, he was a brash, inexperienced and wreckless cadet with a single bar on his collar. Now, he wore the colors of the Starfleet Marine Corps, an insignia with wings adorning his neck. Yet, in many ways, the feeling was the same. The excitement of the adventure beginning and the heartache of leaving those he loved behind. After a brief embrace, she let go and stepped back.:: WALTAS::Swallowing hard, he tapped his comm badge:: =/\= Waltas to Cheyenne. One to beam up. =/\= ((USS Cheyenne)) ::He materialized on the transporter pad, the familiar (and, he admitted, missed) smell of recirculated air and metallic deckplates greeting his senses. He made his way to the storage area and confirmed that his meager possessions were there. For a man with such a history, he hadn't brought much. A small chest made of dark wood of the Hith'a tree contained numerous personal items, including holograms of his family, his favorite pair of jeans, and some personal mementoes. Resting against the wall was his prized 16th-century katana, ensconced in its black scabbard. He stepped over to the ancient blade and picked it up, his hand instinctively gripping the pommel. The blade rang as it was drawn, and even in the dim lighting of the Yacht the blade gleamed. The perfect edge was razor-sharp, and had been the final sight of many an enemy. The curved blade had been forged long before even the long-lived Ba'ku had been born, folded hundreds of times in the forge of one of the great masters of Japan. It had been part of the Nakagawa family until it became his, at the death of his sensei, at his request. After studying the blade for a moment, he sheathed it again and placed it back against the wall. The remainder of his luggage contained clothing, uniforms and a large painting. He smiled, but it was a sad smile.:: WALTAS: Hello, old friend. ::The painting had been a gift from one of the artisans of the village, and the canvas showed a Sovereign-class starship among the stars, far above the Ba'ku homeworld. But not just any Sovereign-this was "The Lady", as her crew affectionately referred to her. Officially she was NCC-31929-C, the USS Discovery. His command. His ship. He ran a hand lovingly over the wooden frame, and gently patted it before turning away to the pilot's seat.:: WALTAS: All the 2390 upgrades eh, Toni? Well, let's see what she can do. ::He fired the impulse engines at full power, yanking the yacht hard out of orbit and arcing away from the Ba'ku homeworld. In a few moments he was into the nebulous cloud that was known as the "briar patch", and spent the next 10 minutes dodging pockets of metreon gas and bouncing around the clouds. The experienced pilot dipped and arced the ship in patterns that would elude most small craft and fly circles around starships.:: COMPUTER: Warning. Impulse manifolds at 110% tolerance. WALTAS: Computer? COMPUTER: Acknowledged. WALTAS: Shut up. ::A quiet (subdued?) bleep signaled the computer's compliance just as the Cheyenne burst from the cloud of the Briar Patch. With a final check of the nav chart he pointed the Yacht's nose toward Duronis II, and seconds later it leaped into high warp.:: WALTAS: ETA to Duronis II. COMPUTER: 8 hours, 25 minutes. WALTAS: Good. ::Pulling the PADD from the storage cabinet he downloaded the relevant data from the embassy:: I've got some homework to do. ============================== Colonel Tyr Waltas Marine XO Duronis II/USS Thunder

((DyAmone Family Quarters ~ USS Atlantis)) ::Wanda returned to her quarters to get some rest before the reception. Talking to Kirosa reminded her of friends she made and lost since she joined Starfleet and deciding to seek them she first contacted one she haven’t seen the longest, James. She opened the com to USS Darwin, in her opinion truly strange looking vessel, but pretty in it’s strangeness. Atlantis’ position inside the corridor made the opening of the communication harder, but once the buoys made the path, the connection will be instantaneous and probably none of them will notice any problems. Hmm, it was James, engineer… he will notice.:: ((Main Engineering, Deck 9, USS Darwin-A)) :: As always, there was plenty to be getting on with in Main Engineering. That said, James was pleasantly surprised at how little of that was repair work - the last mission had been surprisingly light on ship damage all things considered and James was confident that the repair teams would soon deal with what little was left. So that meant that James was able to indulge himself in what was becoming his favorite tasks - benchmarking. The latest mission had given them lots of data for him to use in familiarising himself with the Darwin… He looked down at the con in his favorite alcove glancing the Engineering log, each one giving him a new insight… :: James: oO Hmm… it seems like the Bridge power grid was better behaved this time… Still, there *was* no firefight near it to mess with it… Oo :: James lifted his hand, about to switch to another set of logs when a notification popped up in the left corner informing him of a incoming subspace call. He wasn’t expecting anything but… He had time to disappear into his office for a while. :: ((James’ Office, Deck 9, USS Darwin-A/DyAmone Family Quarters ~ USS Atlantis)) :: James walked through the door and took his seat behind the desk and more importantly the desktop viewer on top of it. There where a few PADDS in front of it but he pushed those to the side taking a moment to look at the details of the call. It was coming from the Par'tha Expanse, where the USS Atlantis was stationed, so it was likely to be either Wanda or Commander Blueheart contacting him… He leaned forward and answered the call. :: DyAmone: Hello James. ::Hiding a trembling in her voice was possible though hard from a Vulcan/Terran, but even if she could hide it red eyes was impossible to hide. Otherwise, she was probably glowing.:: How are you? :: James couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight of his friend. She was looking well, much better than when they had last met on the CC on SB118 during the elemental crisis that hit the station. It wavered for a second thought when he took in her reddened eyes. :: James: Wanda, it is most agreeable to see you again. How are things? DyAmone: Me, I’m fine. I just… well miss you. ::She giggled.:: I’m CMO. ::She couldn’t keep her face from spreading into wide smile.:: I was surprised, since I’m just a JayGee… and look at you, Lieutenant Commander. I’m so happy for you. :: Certainly a most deserved appointment! When James first met her, she was ACMO and did a great job at that - he knew that she would make a great CMO. He just hoped that the Atlantis crew would remember to stay current with their medicals. As much for their sake as hers. :: James: Congratulations, I see that there will now be little worry over the state of the Atlantis crews health. DyAmone: I’ll make sure they don’t run… too far away from sickbay. ::She giggled.:: Your old Discovery crew is bad in that manner, you should warn me to get prepared. :: James’ eyes glazed over for a second, or so, from the influx of memories. That they certainly were. :: James: So how is Commander Blueheart as a Captain. He was an excellent First Officer, and I do believe that the skills are transferable. DyAmone: I met Blueheart. ::Wanda drifted to the morning meeting with Raj.:: He’s gentleman.. ha. ::She gasped and furrowed her brow seeking the words to explain her thoughts or rather emotions in this matter.:: He has resolve, so no matter the gentle nature I believe in him. ::Closing her eyes in a smile.:: He will be good Captain. :: James nodded. He had hoped as much. From Wanda’s description of him, James could tell that he was the same man he had met almost two years ago on the bridge of the Discovery. Two years, was it really that long? Well, 1 year and 9 months to be more precise but still far longer than it felt like. :: James: I’m... glad to hear it, ::James paused for a second:: If you get the chance, would you mind telling him that I am still willing to continue our lessons, if he is. DS-6 has excellent holo facilities. DyAmone: Your lessons? ::There was no need to delve into asking more than that, since her voice said it all.:: James: A little while back, then Lt. Commander, Blueheart came to me asking for lessons on Vulcan meditation to help him sleep. They were most enjoyable and we always said we would have to do another. DyAmone: That... is…interesting. Fascinating when at that. ::Wanda was almost expected to find out Raj mastered the technique in the meantime, he was kinda cool.:: Tell me more about Blueheart, mind that I did read his records, tell me things like this that are not in them. :: Hmm… Now that was an interesting question, particularly considering he hadn’t read the mans records… :: James: Hmm… He can be somewhat… playful, when the mood takes him. I would watch out and expect it. DyAmone: So, you ended your first mission, how is it behaving. I saw the Darwin, interesting concept, ship is even pretty in it’s… ::Wanda blushed giggling.:: Strangeness. Sorry, but you must admit it looks unusual. :: That it was, James liked it though. Every facet of its design was aimed at getting the most out of it, suiting it to its mission type perfectly. Of course, James also had to admit that it was not uncommon for a ships CE to see it rather rose tinted light… :: James: We just finished our second actually, but the Darwin is behaving admirably. There are a few teething problems but… Starfleet has to give us Engineers *something* to do. DyAmone: Did you use that… ball thing? ::Wanda bowed her head chuckling.:: James: Indeed, the sphere section has already come in use during both of our missions. There are some rather inventive uses for it, in our latest mission we even used it to store an Antares class freighter while we searched it’s hold. DyAmone: Wow. You know, your ship may be quite an asset in exploration and examination of Jenatris cloud. Though from what we know even you may be in danger. ::She rose her eyebrows.:: Maybe it would be interesting to share readings with you, or you may join us for the mission or two? James: That could, indeed, be enjoyable and productive. Unfortunately the decision to do that is in neither of our hands, but it is worth considering. :: James paused again, enjoying the comfortable silence. He was still somewhat concerned by the dilation of the blood vessels in her eyes, which was usually indicative of crying. James made few friends and those that he did manage to make he prefered to see happy or at least in an emotional state pleasing to them. James knew Wanda and knew that not just anything made her upset. The only things he had seen make her like that was when she thought she was going to be arrested for temporal crimes and when her Mother was in a coma. :: James: Wanda… If you don’t mind me asking, are you alright… I noticed a dilation of your retinal artery and… DyAmone: This launch… it was not easy, we had some teething problems and … I never had a real chance to mourn Dantin. I wanted to go and visit Vera, but once my father decided to leave SB118 it was now or never and… ::She sobbed tears falling down her cheeks.:: How did it happen, James? :: Ah. Doctor Vex. In truth memories of him and… it, had been quite pervasive during this mission, even if he did suppress them. It was being on a freighter again, he guessed. :: James: There was a… weapon aboard a small ship. He transported over and overloaded the ships fusion coil and… Did no one ever tell you about it? :: James knew that the bulk of the crews concern fell on Vera Anderson-Vex, his wife… But he was surprised that no one had told her… :: DyAmone: All I know it was heroic death, he sacrificed to saved lives… he was a Doctor, something expected from him, but no… not really! Why? ::She gasped.:: Why Dantin? :: James leaned back in his seat, trying to think of something, anything to say. James differed greatly from the Vulcan norm, but still held on to a significant portion of the Vulcan belief system concerning Death. He was also aware that it was not the most comforting of systems. :: James: He believed it to be right. For him, the only course of action was to do as he did. DyAmone: I feel guilty. Because I think if I was there it would not happen, he would be with Vera and kids. ::She listened to the explanation still crying, but it was obvious all she needed to can say goodbye to a mentor and a friend was a closure, an explanation.:: :: Sentiments that James could agree with. Dr. Vex’s Death at that point was not, in James’ opinion, logical. There were other ways, but James was not about to criticise him for it. He did what he thought was best, and really that was all that mattered in that situation. Besides, James had always taken the stance that the best way to live was to not regret anything, to always see a situation from its positive points. :: James: His last words to us where, “The lives of many outweight the few”. He died trying to preserve his Wife and their Children… and ultimately he did. I can see no other way of this situation ending, not with Dr. Vex. Not if his family was at risk. DyAmone: Thank you. That mission of yours was covered in a web of lies and cover up’s and it was impossible to find out what really happened. ::She smiled.:: He was so good to me. You know he wanted to change department so I can be Chief. ::Shaking her head.:: I know Pandora would not do that for you, but I still think we were both blessed with fantastic mentors in our Chiefs above us when we were starting. :: James nodded. He remembered him trying to change departments and the resulting ‘raised discussion’ it caused between the two. This actually made him smile as he remembered how awkward it was for Captain Rogers and himself while they were at it. Wanda was right though, they had truly been, as she put it ‘blessed’ with their chiefs. :: James: Indeed we where, I learned a lot of how to run a department of Lt. Pandora. Although I’ll agree that she would not have changed departments, nor would I have wanted her too. She, like Dr. Vex, was best where they were. :: Another silence hung for a second. James was beginning to think that most of his conversations where really just bursts of talk followed by pauses. Wanda watched his smiling. Just smiling in silence, it was always good to have somebody you can do that with, enjoy a moments of silence.:: DyAmone: oOHe grew up.Oo DyAmone: Oh camon, you know you miss her. ::Wanda burst in laughter.:: I miss Pandora with her dry humor and poking of Rogers. There was something between them, something deeper than just friendship, otherwise even she would not have freedom to do that. I think he loved her. :: Now here was something gossip related that he finally knew that Wanda didn’t! He did have to admit that he did miss her though, and for mostly the same reasons. He missed most of the Drake crew and the Discovery crew, that he had met, if he where to be honest. That didn’t stop him from enjoying the present and his current crew though. :: James: Actually, they had apparently gone on a few dates before he became the Captain. I’m not sure why it stopped, but apparently that is where the majority of her ammunition in teasing him came from… So, do you have any news of any other Drake alumni. I’m quite curious who else you’ve spoken too. DyAmone: Except you, you mean? ::Wanda winked.:: Hey, whom do you call when you are sad, but the person you miss the most? There was not even a moment of wondering whom I’m gonna call. So who would it be if I didn’t reach you? ::Wanda leaned her head furrowing her brow.:: Sinda, I’d call Sinda Essen next. :: Ah yes, Lt. Sinda. James Tac Officer friend, Ezri Otner, had always spoken highly of her. James’ only real memories of her where her having him arrested thinking he had hijacked a shuttle (because of how bad his flying was) and seeing her consumed with flame during his last mission… and coming back from it. :: James: It is most gratifying to know that I am your first choice for contact… Wanda, if you ever need or want to talk… One of the benefits of being CE is that I can usually choose my own jobs. Hence, I should be able to have a free moment whenever. DyAmone: Lucky you, only benefit of being CMO is you are on duty 24/7. ::She laughed happily.:: It was great talking to you. I will call you… ::She didn’t really know when it will be possible so she couldn’t say when, but she was sure she will.:: I will… I have reception in 6 hours I must attend and since we misplaced our CEO at the launch I had sleepless night, so have to catch some sleep. James: Belive me, the CE is on duty 24/7 as well… May I ask how exactly you lost your CE? ::James thought back to the Haliian Engineer.:: DyAmone: I’ll tell you about that next time we will have a chance to talk.It would take too long. ::She was giggling all the way through saying it.:: :: James raised his eyebrow, looking forward to hearing *that* explanation. :: James: Well then, it was nice seeing you again Wanda but I also have things to be getting on with… I will talk to you later. DyAmone: Be careful, James. :: James smiled, somewhat unwilling to hang up. :: James: You too… Wanda, you too. DyAmone: I will. ::She kissed her fingers and stick the kiss to his cheek, then closed the comm. with a wink.:: Fin... Lt. Commander James Chief Engineer USS Darwin-A and LtJG Wanda DyAmone Chief Medical Officer USS ATLANTIS NCC-74682

Polling closes at 11:59pm on Sunday, March 9th. This is a run-off poll, where our general membership will choose from the top sims of 2014 Rounds 1-6 to find the best sim that will proceed to the final round of the contest. Please read the sims below, which were chosen by a panel of judges (one from each ship) to find the best sims from each round of Set 1: "I Left My Heart in San Francisco," by Lt. Cade Whitman (PNPC)"I am here, don't you hear me?" by LtCmdr. Jalana Laxyn"Churches," by Irina Pavlova"Fighting Fire with Fire," by Lt. Sinda Essen"Kindred Spirits," by LtCmdr. Wulfantine & Lt. Richards"Confronting The Past," by Capt. Tyr WaltasVote for the sim which is best written. We recommend looking for strong characterization and evocative or descriptive scene-setting. If any crew is found "stuffing the ballot" -- having everyone on the crew vote for the same sim to ensure it proceeds to the final round -- that crew will be eliminated from the contest for the remainder of the year. Good luck to the nominees!

((Prak Zel Grand Hotel)) ::The first thing Velana did after checking into her room was to put Maddox down for a nap and take the longest shower possible. Unfortunately, it wasn't as long as she would have liked since her baby started crying about twenty minutes into her steamy bliss.:: ' ::Although still tired and sore, Velana couldn't help but smile as she wrapped herself up in towels and went to sort out what was wrong. This was her life now. Relaxation had just become a luxury.:: ::After she changed Maddox and rocked him back to sleep, she got dressed and combed out her wet hair. There was only one thing on her list of things to do; it was time to contact her mother.:: ::The hotel's front desk walked her through opening a subspace communication and within minutes, she was looking at T'Lan against the gorgeous backdrop of the San Francisco Bay.:: T'Lan: Velana, is everything all right? Velana: Everything is fine, Mother. ::She smiled.:: I just thought you'd like to meet your grandson. ::Her mother had been raised with the same beliefs as Velana, but losing her husband and her son had made her less willing to indulge in emotion over logic. Still, her gently wrinkled features softened at this news and Velana was quite certain her eyes grew misty.:: T'Lan: Oh, Velana... ::She cleared her throat.:: When did this happen? Velana: Two days ago. I've been in a hospital on Zakdorn IV. The birth was...complicated, but we're both fine. ::She held the baby up so her mother could see him on her screen.:: His name is Maddox. T'Lan: It seems to suit him. A Vulcan name wouldn't entirely fit. Velana: No, it wouldn't. ::Hesitating.:: Mother, you know he is half-Human. T'Lan: Of course I know. You are not a mystery to me, Velana. I am aware of the child's parentage. ::Velana gently transferred Maddox to her shoulder.:: Velana: He wants to be in Maddox's life. He wants him to be a Whitman. ::Her mother arched an eyebrow.:: T'Lan: That is asking a lot. Perhaps too much. Velana: ::softly:: I want to believe him. T'Lan: But you're not willing to risk Maddox being hurt him by him. Like you were. ::She smiled.:: I told you, my child. I know you. And part of knowing you is being aware of just how deep your emotions run. Velana: I am trying to be logical. He is Maddox's father and he has rights. I don't doubt that he's sincere. But, Mother, every time I'm on the verge of convincing myself, I remember what it felt like to be cast aside in favor of his career. And then I imagine him doing the same thing to Maddox. ::She shook her head.:: I can't let that happen. T'Lan: Velana, there is an act that transcends logic and is more powerful than emotion. It is called forgiveness. Velana: You're saying I should just forgive him? Like it never happened? T'Lan: I am not. I am simply saying that your anger with him does you absolutely no good. Whatever emotions you have towards Maddox's father is what Maddox will feel for him, too. Do you want him to grow up hating his own father? Velana: Of course not. T'Lan: ::after a moment:: I've never told you this because I never wanted you to doubt your father for any reason, but Kvoss broke off our engagement the night before our joining. ::It was like hearing that Zefram Cochrane had faked his warp flight.:: Velana: ::blinking:: Excuse me? T'Lan: Oh, yes. He said we were too young and he wasn't sure if he was ready and he wanted to focus on medicine before he had to deal with a wife and children. ::She smiled ruefully at the memory.:: Of course, he changed his mind in time for the ceremony to go ahead, but for nearly a day, my heart was broken. Velana: I'm not sure that's an equivalent scenario, Mother. T'Lan: Imagine I hadn't forgiven him and I believe you will find that it is. ::She leaned closer to the screen.:: I am not telling you what to do. I am simply asking you to examine what is ruling you right now. Logic or emotions? Remember... ::Velana closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the words her father had spoken so often.:: Velana: ::whispering:: Balance. ::T'Lan sat back in satisfaction.:: T'Lan: All right. Now tell me everything about my grandson. Lt. Commander Velana Chief Medical Officer USS Vigilant

(Turbolift, En Route to Deck 5 – USS Altantis) ::The after-effects of the confrontation with the captain had started to sink in. It was always in hindsight that things often fell into perspective: yes she was angry at the situation: it was unfair, it wasn't right and it showed blatant lack of faith and trust in the Orion simply going around her instead of approaching her with it and explaining why... yet the way she had approached it could have been infinitely better instead of lunging at the captain in blind rage and accusing him of being prejudice, racist and being 'unwilling' to have her learn from mistakes. The damage had been contained to the ready room, but for how long? How long before she was thrown off the ship simply because she couldn't keep a lid on her emotional state.:: ::She slapped herself. Hard. She couldn't think about that again, she was in enough trouble as it is and the last thing that she REALLY wanted to do was keep talking about it. She had said all she wanted or needed to in front of the captain and it probably sounded the death knell of her career and the last thing she wanted to do was make the situation worse by physically ripping the counsellor's head off because she wanted to emphasise the fact 'she didn't want to talk about it.'.:: ::The Turbolift came to a dead stop just a short walk from Holodeck one. Without any pause for thought she was quick out of the Turbolift and made the short walk there. By the time she got there she noticed the holodeck display next to the door... and she just wanted to scream. The Holodeck was in use and there were three people registered presently using it . Her mind thinking how this day could possibly get any worse... storming the Holodeck would probably cause that, but was the worst thing she could do right now. No doubt it was being used for the delegation dinner... and something she probably would be barred from after how she snapped at the captain...:: ::She slapped herself again, this time seething at herself to stop thinking about it and that it wouldn't help things as they were now. Instead of lingering outside the Holodeck she decided to traverse the deck all the way to Holodeck 2. Yes the ship only had two Holodecks, but surely both weren’t in use at the same time.:: (Time-skip) (Holodeck 2 – USS Atlantis – Some minutes later) ::The Holodeck wasn't in use, and thankful for it, Kyla was trawling through the location database, looking for Rigel VII... wasn't the real thing but it was close enough. Even if she was an Ensign she was one of the Senior officers, meaning her authorization should be able to disengage the safety protocols. She didn't think of there any latent warnings or safety features built into the holodeck that would warn anyone if the Safeties had been switched off. Any regards she needed to do something to get her mind off of the mess she had caused.:: KIROSA: Okay... that should do it. Computer, begin program. ::The Criss-cross layout of the deck shimmered and gave-way to the view of a Rigel VII wilderness: a thick, vibrant jungle on one of the highland mesas safe from the high tides. Through the canopy of the wilderness a violet coloured sky signifying the moon was slow on the rise. The silence broken by alien bird-call... already whatever she felt previously just vanished as she looked out at the junglescape... at home away from home. Before stepping out of the archway, she turned back towards the control, keying in this Holodeck program under her 'Favorites' whenever she wanted and whenever she came to the Holodeck..:: ::And it was also as though the Holodeck was providing her something to do now: Kyla only took one step before she looked down and noticed something in the dirt. A footprint, humanoid... and bigger than any of the crew on the ship... it had to be a Kalar, aside from the Rigellians and intermittent Orion Settlements, the Kalar were the only other humanoids on the planet: Big, Fearsome, Aggressive... and clearly out on the hunt. She followed the direction of the footprint, noticign a few other footprints before they disappeared into the surrounding under-brush.:: ::Unzipping her jacket and removing it promptly as well as her under-vest. Kyla deduced that the safest way to track this Kalar was up in the trees, following it from an elevated hight to make it hard for the Kalar to attack. Discarding all but her gold-coloured shirt was more than enough to give her mobility to climb the trees... as for blending in with the canopy, not so much. But hunting, to her point of view, was a matter of adaptability over concealment, to use the surroundings not only to discover what and where, but to use your surroundings to catch your enemy by surprise.::

(Deck 6, Crew Quarters – USS Atlantis) IC: KIROSA: Computer, where the hell is the captain!? ::It was evident at this point that Kyla was furious with some recent news that she had been given that she was off the security detail of the captain. For whatever reason, for whatever happened to her before today, this was it. Enough was enough and she was going to front the captain out about it, in private possibly, but failing that, she would do it in front of the [...] crew, her career was on shaky ground right now (as far as she knew) so why should she try and salvage it if even the CO was against her?:: ::Once the Computer has given her the Captain's location she was out of her quarters like a torpedo. The look of utmost, suppressed rage on her face, the stride showing that she was going to either kill or at the very least maim. Even though she was bound by the rules of that uniform that was what she wanted to do. She rounded a corner and stepped into the nearest Turbolift, silently thankful it was empty.:: KIROSA: Computer, close and lock turbolift doors! ::The computer complied, the doors closing shut and a dull 'clunk' sounding the doors weren’t opening anytime soon. The next thing she had to do was get the Captain to actually speak to her in private. Tapping her commbadge.:: KIROSA: =/\= Chief Kirosa to Captain Blueheart. =/\= ::She waited for a moment to allow the Captain to do whatever he felt was more important before he replied to her:: BLUEHEART : ::pausing after hearing the word “chief”:: =/\= Blueheart here. What can I do for you, Ensign Kirosa? =/\= KIROSA: =/\= Captain, can I speak to you for a moment in private? =/\= BLUEHEART: =/\= What is this about? =/\= oO Actually I sort of know.. I think.. Oo KIROSA: =/\= Captain! =/\= ::Her tone had now become more forceful, the slightest ebb of her new-found rage starting to surface and lace itself into her voice now.:: =/\= Can I speak. To you. For a moment. In Private? =/\= ::Yes it sounded intimidating, verging on threatening, but she didn't care. She wanted answers and she was going to get them. The only sense about her would rather this happen behind closed doors than in front of the crew and cause any further irreparable damage to her short-lived career.:: ::The tone of the Orion’s voice said it all. It was evident she had learned of the switch in the chief of security position. Raj didn’t consider it a demotion at all and it definitely wouldn’t say so in her personnel file. Yet that tone. That tone implied the officer considered it a demotion, of losing face, a conspiracy. Whatever the reason behind the insistent, forceful tone of her voice, Raj didn’t like it one bit. In fact, he found it annoying, if not disrespectful. Thus, he surprised himself when instead of lashing out at the security officer, he went into his Counselor mode. Fighting fire with fire will only get everyone burned - including the ship!:: BLUEHEART: ::neutral tone:: =/\= Come to my ready room now, Kyla. =/\= ::The commlink went dead. Abruptly.:: BLUEHEART: oO Yup. Definitely calls for some soothing ambient music and chamomile tea. Oo ::Kyla heard the link go abruptly dead from the Captain’s end. Despite her rage she was silently thankful this potential explosion was going to happen behind closed doors rather than on the bridge. She was angry, yes, but she knew this sort of thing would demolish crew morale if it happened in front of them.:: KIROSA: Bridge! ::Didn’t take away the fact that she was still angry at this entire situation. She had actually been trusted with something, for the first time in her life since the Academy, and now, to her, it had been betrayed by being stripped of it simply because she ‘blinked and missed’ the attack in Engineering. She was new to this, so wasn’t she allowed or afforded the odd mistake now and then? But evidently not in her case, be it she was Orion, or stereotyped, or new or for whatever reason, the trust placed in her had been betrayed… and to Kyla, that was enough reason to be furious.:: ::She held trust as something close to her heart. She had to trust the Orions that lived in the Settlement just as they had to trust her, she also, for now, foolishly thought that Starfleet would be the same… apparently not. All this as well as other lingering thoughts and events just causing her anger to stew, to boil and threaten to ruin her.:: ((Bridge - USS Atlantis)) ::It wasn’t long before the doors opened to show the bridge. Kyla wasting absolutely no time in exiting the capsule and striding with purpose across the bridge and towards the ready room, pressing the call button to the room with some force she was lucky not to have broken the panel:: ::It wasn’t long before the door chime chirped. Perfect timing too, for the tea was ready and Vangelis was piping in through the audio system.:: BLUEHEART: Come. ::The doors opened and the evidently furious Orion stepped into the room, her ears caught the sound of the music in the room, more-so as the doors closed behind her… for now, given her temperamental state, she thought it was just noise and nothing else as she looked towards the captain.:: BLUEHEART: ::remaining standing:: Please, ::beckoning with his hand:: come, have a seat. ::He gestured to the seat in front of his desk.:: ::She didn’t respond because she still felt that angry. But rather than cause more trouble than she had intended, she bit down on her tongue before walking towards the chair and sitting in the offered chair.:: ::The CO waited for the Orion woman to sit before doing the same.:: BLUEHEART: Chamomile tea, Kyla? KIROSA: I’m not thirsty, but thank you anyway. ::After sipping from his own cup, he placed it aside before leaning slightly forward in his seat, elbows rested on the cold surface of the desk, hands clasped in front of him, with a pleasant smile and neutral, unassuming eyes.:: BLUEHEART: So,.. what can I do for you, Kyla? KIROSA: You can start, sir, by explaining why you’ve betrayed the trust you put in me at this morning’s briefing. ::Blunt and to the point, she saw no point or reason in beating about the bush so got straight to the point. if she had to clarify on her meaning, she gladly would. be it her foolishness or nievitee, she was expecting the same from the captain:: BLUEHEART: Betrayed you? I don’t understand.. KIROSA: Okay, more bluntly is why rescind my Responsibilities as Chief of Security? BLUEHEART: Ah.. that.. Sure you don’t want some soothing tea before that? Okay, never mind the tea. Um.. I’m not sure if you’re aware of the.. incident we had in Engineering. The chief engineer was injured and is currently in Sickbay. Fortunately, his injuries are minor. ::Rather than reply, Kyla instead listened to this part… but THEN she started to think: if that were the case, standard procedure dictated that she be informed straight away, and yet… not a peep until some time after, meaning there was clearly still a ‘racial issue’ somewhere… only going further to fuel the anger-induced state that she was in right now. Rather than BLUEHEART: With the Ambassador on board, I felt it necessary to have a senior officer head the department. The decision was purely based on diplomatic circumstances. Your expertise and dedication to the Security team never came into question. KIROSA: You’re making this sound like I blinked and missed in the worst possible way, sir… how is this not bringing my Dedication to my Security Career, as short as it is, into question? BLUEHEART: By providing transport for the Ambassador, we are indirectly representing the Federation. Whatever we do and say will be noticed by the Grenushi, and later, the Krayav. A good impression of our professionalism will increase our chances for economic and political cooperation in this region of space in the future. That’s why I need Cmdr Dickens heading Security for now. KIROSA: So… what? This is your way of saying ‘I don’t want you heading up my security Department’? BLUEHEART: Again, I assure you, Kyla, that this gesture on my part is in no way undermining your ability to lead the department. Nor will it affect your chances of promotion later. In fact, with my years of experience in Starfleet, I can safely say that I see a great and bright future for you in SF. You can be sure of that. ::Not bloody likely was all she could think. She didn’t have the captain’s ‘experience’ on the matter and she wasn’t clairvoyant, so there was no way for her to know this might be standard practice for some of the Commanding Officers, but to Kyla, who led a more simpler life, she couldn't’ stop bringing it back to one simple thing: Betrayal. She had grown up, having to learn how to trust the people around her and asking only the same of her in turn. Trust was a big thing for Kyla, perhaps the biggest… and not only a week fresh from the academy that aspect of her had been insulted and broken (from her point of view) and the captain had the gall to think this wasn’t as bad a thing as she was making it out to be.:: BLUEHEART: Take it as part of your learning curve. Learning how sometimes we all have to grit our teeth and step aside for diplomatic or political reasons. I myself have been in your shoes many times before. We are a paramilitary organization after all. The Federation still comes first. ::sipping his tea:: I hope that answers your question, Kyla? ::He peered from over the rim of his cup of tea.:: KIROSA: Oh no, sir. ::She then pushed up out of her chair… she had heard enough from her perspective and was about to jump to all the wrong conclusions, only she didn't know that was going to happen.:: No I… I don’t see this as a learning curve… if anything it’s just confirmed the belief that you’ve just betrayed both my trust and the trust you actually decided to put in me simply because you're trying to hide the truth you think I’m completely incapable at this job. ::He felt his emotions roiling inside him. The last time he was emotional, let his guard down and become driven by his feelings, it had led to a mutiny and a court martial hearing. Something he would never let happen, he had vowed to himself. He decided to keep silent and let the Orion ensign carry on her verbal assault on him.:: KIROSA: NO! No, it’s bad I enough that I have to learn this through some written announcement, but what REALLY makes me so angry about it all is that you, my own commanding officer, couldn’t even be BOTHERED to take the time to tell me this to my face! BLUEHEART: oO I am in the midst of wording my speech, actually. Oo ::He stared at the empty cup on his desk, not saying anything.:: KIROSA: I get it, Alright! Yes, I’m new, little only a week out of the academy. Yes. I’m an Orion, which practically turning every other head I’ve walked past since the Academy and who knows what else to the more hormonal persuasion. You can dress this up all you like, but if this boils down to some simple, stupid reason as to my inexperience or my Racial inheritance, then it’s clear I have been so DELUDED about the Federation and it’s beliefs! ::When he finally spoke, his voice was forced to be monotonous. Clear, but monotonous.:: BLUEHEART: I’m not dressing up anything. What you see is what you get. ::As he stood up, he smiled at her.:: BLUEHEART: Counselor’s office. 0800 hours tomorrow. It’s a request, not an order. ::He turned around, his back facing her, to bring the empty cup back to the replicator.:: Dismissed, ensign. ::His hands were trembling as he set the cup down. The roar of blood in his head drowned all other sounds and he forgot the world around him for what seemed like an eternity.:: ::If the captain was done here, then she couldn't’ see any reason why she should stay in the room. She turned and just strode out of the Ready Room, back across the bridge and back to the Turbolift. If this was the final say, that she had been ‘requested’ to see the Counselor tomorrow morning, then that was an easy thing to resolve.:: KIROSA: Computer. Whatever ‘request’ has been made of me to see the ship’s Counselor. I want it declined in the nicest yet strongest possible manner without me getting into more trouble. COMPUTER: Acknowledged. ::It was at that point Kyla just needed something to do, something to help her relax and calm herself, and she knew talking about it wouldn’t help anything, she had tried it with the highest authority on the hsip and all it got her was that ‘session’ she just threw away. Talking never helped her because, most of the time, there was nothing TO talk about… she needed something she knew, something familiar…:: KIROSA: Holodeck one. ::The computer chirped and the Turbolift hummed into life, plotting the most direct route through the Turboshafts back down to Deck 5. If she was off Security Detail, then she may as well use this newly acquired free time to stop her from making any grave mistakes in the future.::

((Commonwealth Holodeck)) Blair: =/\= Blair to Warwick and Braddock, will you gentlemen please join us in the Captain’s Dining room?=/\= Warwick: =/\= Acknowledged. I'll be with you shortly =/\= ::He arrived at the room at the same time as Braddock and gestured for the man to enter first..:: Braddock: You wanted to see us captain? Blair: West: And so have I. There strong. I can taste, and smell and feel things. Braddock: Yeah I have two conflicting thoughts. One says Leah and Michael died on the Tiger and somewhere in the back of my mind I know their still alive. Blair: Warwick: I'm got two thoughts too, SIr. On the one had I remeber everything you do - the Tiger being destroyed I mean but, it almost sounds too stupid to vocalise. Blair: West: I can remember the Tiger being destroyed as well, but its a different type of memory. Braddock: RESPONSES Warwick: I don't remember even stepping foot on her. It's all just hazy, glimpses of hulls and pictures. I couldn't even tell you who this Leah and Michael were...or are as it may be. Blair: West: It is just odd feelings. Braddock: RESPONSES Warwick: So, why the difference? Blair/Braddock: RESPONSES Warwick: That's not really my area of medical expertise. Blair/Braddock: RESPONSES ::Ian got an Idea, not wanting to share it with the others. He got up and walked out the Captains Dinning room and made his way to main engineering. Walking into the room. He looked around and saw the crew hard at work.:: West: Clear the room, I need a moment to my self please. ::Ian watched as the Engineering detail walked out the room. Once they were gone, He sealed off Main Engineering and locked out the main controls. Walking over to the Security Locker he Opened it and pulled out the newest in Star Fleet Phaser Rifles. Knowing that as soon as he pulled it Lt. Commander Braddock would be notified. Pulling back the charge plate and holding it for three seconds and letting it go to [...] the weapon for firing. Pressing a few keys and powered it up to full. Walking over to the warp core and taking aim, Ian lined up the main chamber and Fired. Holding the beam on the warp core for four seconds and the chamber blew!!! The Ship was engulfed in the explosion. Ian looked up from his paper. He was sitting in his office on the 5th floor of City hall. Taking a moment to look around. Ian stood up and walked over the windows and opened the them wide. Stepping up on the ledge He crossed him self with his right hand and jumped. ((Deep Space 17)) ::The Alt West, Held his chest with one hand and his head with the other. He feel against the wall. Picking him self up he moved quickly to the Bridge of the Tiger A. He found his self there before anyone got there. He pulled open the computer wall bulk head and started removing hardware. ((Commonwealth Holodeck)) Pick up and Drill, Ian pressed the screw into the spin on the female laying on his table and stated placing the pins in place to finish up his last TLIFT of the day. Pulling over the Xray he had the tech shoot a few images and as he looked, Memory's started flowing in. Picking up and 10 blade Ian held it to his neck and pulled it across quickly. He gasped and feel back to floor of the OR, looking up at the bright White Light, he new it was not heaven it was the OR light. it grew dark and became faint. Look back up from his station he armed the phasers and fired on the ship behind the Avenger. The Phaser just bounced off its hull. She came around with full powered up weapons. He heard Captain Braddock yelling in the background. As the Romulans began to fire. Ian dropped the shields and the Bridge was blown to bits. ((USS Tiger Bridge)) :: The Alt West feel to the floor holding his chest, his mind was spinning. Get his balance he stood up and and pulled his phaser out as he did the turbo lift doors opened and he watched as Riley and Clack and a few other officers walked on to the Bridge. He held up the phaser at them. He was having a hard time breathing and covered in sweat.:: Alt-West: Don't move. Stay right there. Riley/Clack/Anyone: ((Commonwealth HoloDeck)) Looking into his scoop at the German army.:: West: Looks like Death Sweepers. :: Ian stood up and yelled and waved his arms. It was not long and he hit the floor. The holodeck started flickering and the room started shifting from life to life so quickly that you could barley make anything out. The real West in the Holodeck Control Lab woke up laying on the table. He could not breath. He pulled his self up from the bed and the probe that was placed in back of his scull pulled lose. As this happened Ian feel to the floor convulsing and going into cardiac failure. He saw Blair, Braddock and Warwick start to wake up. He had done it. But was he going to die?:: ((Bridge USS Tiger A)) ::The Link to the real west was lost. The Alt West feel to his knees panting. He kept the phaser pointing at the Tigers Crew. As the connection was fully lost. The Alt West shifted and turned a light blue and a white glowing hair with cat like eyes. He stood up standing a almost 7 foot tall.:: Alt West: The Commonwealth will not give up captain. Riley/Clack/Anyone: Alt West: You have been warned. We are here!!! Among you! ::He raised the phaser and fired it at the wall of computer hard ware and turned his head and actived his death trigger. A second later the Alt-Weat turned to Pink and Blue Mist as he exploded on the bridge. Chunks of the Commonwealth Officer landed all over the bridge and walls.:: TAG/TBC Wishing you Fair Winds and following Seas... Lt. Commander Ian Lane West, D.A.S. Mission Specialist & Strategic Operations Star Fleet 118th Fleet, Ithassa Region USS Tiger NCC-52199-A

((Zakdorn Hospital – Late Night Hours)) ::There was a room waiting for her at some hotel but Aribelle did not even consider staying there. Aribelle instead spent the night at the hospital, sleeping on the uncomfortable stiff couch in the waiting area and catching very little sleep as patients and their families poured in. The damage to the city would take some time to assess and clean up. The natives were surely feeling the effects of such destruction. They were trying to bring back order and sought answers that no one could really give.:: ::She wanted to be close, though, to her crewmates. Her patients. Pavlova, Velana and the baby boy. At least they had gotten there safely and were getting the treatment and rest they needed.:: ::She would be close if they needed her and she checked on them often.:: ::At some point in the middle of the night, Aribelle had wandered into the restroom and, after locking the door, she found herself standing in front of the sink with one hand on the edge of the basin and the other over her mouth. Stealing a glance at her reflection in the mirror hanging in front of her, Ari studied her face, recalling the events that had happened that day.:: ::The lack of sleep. The conspiracies. The destruction. The injuries. The death.:: ::The tears then came.:: ::She wasn’t a crier, really, but she was emotionally spent and seeing so much devastation only set her off the edge. And for what, exactly? She let out a few soft sobs. Aribelle couldn’t wrap her head around the motives of people. She could not fathom what was so important that people had to pay with their lives, with blood. It all seemed so senseless. It was, in that moment, that she wished she had her comfy PJs and a bottle of merlot. At least she had the strength to wait and become unraveled in the restroom. Alone and in private.:: ::How pathetic was that? Officers weren't supposed to cry. Things like this happened ALL the time. Unfortunately.:: ::Managing to finally hold back the tears from trickling any further down her face, Ari wiped the backs of her hands across her eyes, and then dragged the heel of her hand along her cheeks before attempting to adjust her appearance. Her hair was a mess and there was still dried green blood on her arms. She turned on the faucet and let the warm water wash over her skin.:: ::When she looked back into that mirror, she found a tired, scared and teenaged-looking version of herself looking back at her. She didn’t even recognize herself.:: ::When she stepped back out, her eyes were still puffy and pink but she would blame that on her being tired.:: ::No one would ever have to know the truth.:: TBC Lieutenant Aribelle “Ari” Tagren Doctor, Medical Officer USS Vigilant

(( Marine Holodeck - USS Thunder-A )) :: T'Ana sat on the floor cross legged watching the ship's company of marines practice their combat skills in the holodeck training program, sweat dripping off her face and her careful posed expression of neutral disinterest visible to her six guards. They stood in the corners and center of a rectangular part of the holodeck cordoning her off from the rest of the crew here. :: :: Being a prisoner as long as she had been, certain things had to be taken care of. They were not allowed to keep her in solitary confinement forever and so she was given one hour every two days to exercise on the holodeck. It was always with a the main component of marines so there was no chance of an escape. T'Ana would never attempt such a brash act, but already had figured her best options, if she so chose, was transport between her cell and the holodeck. Whoever was planning her security arrangement had experience dealing with high profile people. The person, whoever it was, made sure she was always escorted with six at a distance, no transporter was ever used in case of an interception, and her ability to move undetected was impossible thanks to so many eyes. :: T'Ana: oO I do love a puzzle, nameless. Oo :: Focusing ahead, she saw a young marine in hand to hand combat with another, more seasoned. It was the knife fight drill and the poor kid kept getting put down each time. :: T'Ana: :: muttering :: You're extending your arm to far. :: Her voice must have been louder than she planned or his hearing was much better than she anticipated. :: Conner: ::anry:: What was that? :: The marines in the general area stopped what they were doing, but T'Ana did not rise to the bait. She remained seated. :: T'Ana: You're over extending your attacks. You've been dueling him for over fifteen minutes now and haven't found his weakness. Adams: Weakness? What weakness? :: The seasoned veteran did not like being used as an example. Angry and proud. Just the way she liked them. A small crossed her face. :: T'Ana: You favor your left leg to move out of range of a thrust so you can come underneath your opponent in a throw. :: Adams scoffed, but his eyes told her that he knew what she was capable. The message she sent with the naked marines a few months ago still rang in their minds. Standing slowly so her guards did not get jumpy, she turned to them. :: T'Ana: May I? Johns: What? T'Ana: :: sarcastic:: I'm in a holodeck with imaginary weapons and safeties on. I doubt I can get away. :: They were a little unsure, but Adams stepped up and tossed her one of the rubber knives. She flipped it so the blade lay against her forearm and not pointed out. :: T'Ana: In a knife fight, Private Conner, your advantage is the usage of your blade. You want to keep a low profile to your enemy and get in close. You need to watch their body language to know how they are going to strike. :: Adams stepped up and T'Ana remained motionless. Adams was smart, he did not move against her so she began to circle with the blade still laying against her arm. With a quick movement, the Romulan assassin stepped in to range and Adams lashed out with the blade, she bent her torso backwards to avoid the blade and then before he could step back from her thrust, she placed the top of her foot against the back of the knee enough to make him stumble. The movement was subtle and relied on his momentum and as he began to fell, her fake blade cracked him across the throat gently. :: T'Ana: You're dead. :: The marines had begun to gather as she returned to her defenseless posture. She looked at them. :: T'Ana: I am guessing from your training that you all are improving your hand to hand combat skills for security details. Your commander believes more assassins are coming and so wants you to be prepared. Your folly is that you are thinking like marines, not like an assassin. Conner: What do you mean? :: Connor was the curious one. That was good. His youth did not taint his opinion of her yet. He saw a learning opportunity, but remained guarded of her. :: T'Ana: Marines are honorable. Marines fight for their loved ones, they fight for their pack, they fight for their people. :: There was a murmur of agreement. They were very pack minded and she knew that Major Parker's morale building had not gone to waste. :: Adams: And how is that not good? T'Ana: Because...assassins think of one thing. Complete the assignment. There is no honor. There is only the target. You think assassins will come at you from the front or the back. We will come sideways. Poison, long range sniper shots, close quarters combat from where you least expect it. When you patrol with your VIP, do you even bother to wonder if the security has been infiltrated? What about that diminutive maid who has been working at the residence for three years? Assassins will do what they have to to kill their target. They know weakness and they *will* exploit it. :: There were growls and her words were unsettling. That was what she wanted. Hannibal was a very good soldier and his black op files were filled with perfect missions, but each were run by a team and they completed as a team. Assassins were alone and that's how they thought. T'Ana: You all have weaknesses. Know them and the enemy will have a harder time exploiting them. Adams: What weaknesses? Your little trick was good, but that's in fighting. :: It was a challenge and she needed to prove her words more than anything. :: T'Ana: You're weakness is women. I've seen how you stare at me and the rest of your female comrades. An assassin will see that and use it to their advantage. Connor, you're trusting and will believe any sob story handed to you, Morgan, you're anger blinds you to the obvious, Gregson, your loyalty to the Federation keeps you from seeing any enemy wearing your uniform. If you are to fight an assassin DO NOT trust anything or anyone until your target is safe or the attacker is dead. :: With that, she turned and headed for the door with her guards behind her. They needed to be ready. There would be another and she had to make sure that no one was killed. If she couldn't complete the mission, no one was going to be allowed. :: ~tbc~ PNPC T'Ana Romulan Assassin As Simmed By... Lt Cmdr Nugra First Officer USS Thunder-A Embassy, Duronis II

((Briefing Room - USS Gemini)) :: Liam was beginning to worry he was not getting his point across effectively. He wasn't unfamiliar with confrontation, but it was usually with someone directly opposed to what he was trying to achieve. This was different. He and Hsina were theoretically on the same side. While he wanted to give his officers enough leeway to do their jobs. But not at the risk of putting the rest of the crew at potential risk.:: Frost: This is not a negotiation. You have your position for as long as you demonstrate your ability to do it. If you're not prepared to follow the rules, then you can pack up and find another another assignment, do I make myself clear? Amman: Yes sir. Permission to speak freely? :: He raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure what she felt needed to be said. But he considered himself nothing if not open minded.:: Frost: Alright, I'll bite. Amman: With regards to firearms, I have taken them on missions on four occasions. The first time was as a junior science officer. I had never fired a phaser before and our security chief, Commander Eskyys, gave it to me for the mission so that I might actually hit what I aimed at. The second was on an away team where we correctly predicted the presence of a power dampening field that would render energy weapons useless. The third was again on an away mission where we correctly expected disturbances with regard to powered systems and the fourth was specifically when ordered to take into a custody a Brikar, who by nature of his species was all but immune to the effects of phasers. Frost: I'll keep that in mind if we ever go up against the Brikkar or the Borg. Amman: If you order me not to use alternative weapons I will not use them. I just wanted to point out that there are situations in which non-powered weapons are vital for maintaining security. :: He understood where her intentions lay, and he couldn't entirely fault it. But he wasn't here to discuss his officers intentions.:: Frost: That was the general idea. Now what about your own wellbeing? Amman: Again sir, if you or medical order me to see the counselor, I'll see the counselor, but I think my record should also show you that I'm not unstable or likely to crack under pressure. :: This was were things began to go sideways for him. She may have believed that she wasn't going to lose control. Few people possessed the self-awareness to identify the signs before it happened. That was part of why they had counselors and psychologists. People who could identify the signs before they become problematic or dangerous.:: Frost: The counselors at Starfleet Medical seem to think differently. Why do you think that is? Amman: Specifically? Commander Blueheart thought it was a symptom that I didn¹t mourn or show any sadness with loss or display any signs of fear Frost: Everyone mourns differently, I'm not here to tell you how to react to that. But fear is different. Fear is an evolved response that keeps human beings alive. What changed for you? Amman: Outlook maybe. I don¹t honestly don't know. I don't ever remember being afraid of anything, and the last time I felt truly sad was when my mother died, and that was over 30-years-ago my time. :: Fear was an interesting topic of discussion and study. Fear was the instinct that kept human beings alive long enough to reproduce and evolve. It was what kept his primitive ancestors from charging head first into a lion's den. Controlled fear was what allowed him to be a good fighter. The fear of losing kept him training, and the fear of getting punched in the face reminded him to keep his guard up. Of course, there were those that feared the irrational, or even those that feared the rational to an irrational degree. But Hsina seemed to have the opposite problem.:: Frost: My concern is that a lack of fear may lead you to make irrational or dangerous decisions. I'm not going to lie, I'm surprised that you were cleared for duty. Amman: Why? You have two Vulcans on your staff, do think their lack of fear will lead them to make irrational or dangerous decisions? I take my duties very seriously, and not falling apart under pressure is probably a good thing. Still, if you do not wish me to serve as your chief of security, then I will gladly step down and disembark at our next stop or rendezvous. I'm the first to admit that I¹m not much of a Starfleet security officer. I¹ve had two months of direct commission training and then served most of my one year in uniform as a science officer. Frost: Vulcans are also not susceptible to emotional extremes either. But that's beside the point. So how did you make your way to security? Amman: Well sir, Captain Waltas thought that I was the best person to keep his ship and crew safe. I plan to do everything in my power to give you the same impression. :: Liam had been in security before. He had served as the Chief of Security for Starbase 118, with several thousand officers under his command. But if he was being honest, the story of how he got there wasn't that much different than hers. He was qualified, but he hadn¹t had a lot of practical experience.:: Frost: I'm not here to discuss your qualifications. As I told you, you will have your job for as long as you demonstrate your ability to do it. Amman: I believe my ability is why I¹ve been continually promoted instead of fired. Frost: But make no mistake, I won't put up with anyone who breaks the rules just because they don't like them. There's no room for cowboys on my ship. Do we understand each other? Amman: Clearly. LtCmdr Hsina Amman Chief of Security USS Gemini & Commander Liam Frost Commanding Officer USS Gemini

(( Docking Port 7 – Deep Space 6 )) ::He thanked every star in the quadrant that he was good at forcing his mind to stay focused. For such a large transport ship, it seemed that every single common area was a proverbial madhouse. Then again, he hadn’t spent much time outside of the interior of Federation space, so the more... lively races were still somewhat new to him. He didn’t spend a great deal of time interacting, however. He was now a Starfleet officer, and he had a job to do – namely, that of familiarizing himself as much as possible with the tactical systems and security posture of his new assignment, the USS Darwin. He went into the assignment process knowing full well that he could get anything the fleet had to offer. He was surprised, very pleasantly, to receive orders to a state of the art science vessel. Science ran in his veins and in his family. As a Trill, that was the subject his race was known for above all else. Of course, if there was one person to rain on his parade, it was his mother. He couldn’t help but ruminate on their last conversation before departing Starbase 118.:: (( Flashback – Crew Quarters, Starbase 118 )) ::He didn’t let the conversation deter him from packing what few belongings he had brought along from Earth. His transport was due to leave, and the last thing he needed was to miss it. Of course, it was also an excuse to not look at the monitor, as even across light years and over a subspace comm channel, his mother, Marika Tiro, inspired his ire in a way no one else could. Except for maybe that Orion hologram on his final...:: Loren: Mother, we’ve been over this a thousand times. I am doing what I want to do. Just because I’m not firing myself out of a torpedo tube toward Trill doesn’t mean I’m abandoning my race. Besides, you’re joined! You of all people should know that being joined isn’t for everyone. It’s not for me. ::Marika was a joined trill, the sixth host for the Tiro symbiont. And she never let him forget it.:: Marika: Toja, I just want you to live up to your potential! Who knows what you could accomplish if you had five lifetimes of knowledge and memories at your disposal. ::This was a conversation they’d had time and time again after he left their home on Betazed for Starfleet Academy. She was unhappy enough about that decision. When she learned that he was majoring in Military Studies, she nearly strangled him through subspace.:: Loren: Who knows what you might come to understand about me if you bothered to listen to the five lifetimes of memories you flaunt so often. I’m not a scientist, and I never will be, unless something very, very strange happens. And I will not apologize for that. I've been assigned to the USS Darwin as a tactical officer. ::He could hear her roll her eyes over the comm channel.:: Marika: Wonderful. My eldest son is gallivanting around the galaxy looking for battle. I didn’t realize I’d raised a Klingon with spots. At least your sister is doing something worthwhile. ::His face visibly contorted in confusion that then shifted into recognition of absurdity.:: Loren: Do you even hear yourself right now? Looking for battle? Starfleet’s mission, before all else, is to seek out new life, to go boldly where no one has gone before. If my role in that mission, that I believe in wholeheartedly, is to protect the lives of my crewmates, or the lives of races we have yet to even encounter, I can’t think of any better purpose for which to live my life. Marika: Toja, just listen to me! I... ::He was finished with this conversation. He had worked long and hard to develop some semblance of patience, and she was trying it, as usual.:: Loren: This conversation is over. Please give father my best. I hope that he is more supportive of my goals and accomplishments, though I suspect he will be. He always was. Say hello to Anzi for me. Good bye. ::Before she could even respond, he terminated the subspace link with a press of a button that was probably more forceful than it needed to be. He didn’t have time to stand there and fume, so he finished packing, and departed for the transport.:: (( Docking Port 7 – Deep Space 6 )) ::He was brought back to the present with an announcement over the transport’s comm system. Docking in five minutes. He looked around him, and gathered up all of the cluttered PADDs he’d left strewn about his little warren on the transport, and made sure that everything was packed. When he stepped off the ship, it was like trading one madhouse for another. He stood there for a moment, letting the throngs of people swarm around him and pass by, like a big rock in the middle of a river. He tried to push the remnants of his little chat with his mother out of his mind. The last thing he needed was to look like he was ready to go ten rounds with a targ while reporting to his new commanding officer.:: Baker: MISTER LOREN! ::He blinked once, turning his head this way and that, trying to locate the voice that called his name. He didn’t expect to see any familiar faces, but someone obviously knew him. It was the flailing hand that gave him the hint that he needed, though he was a bit surprised at the face that greeted him. He tried to weave his way through the bustle, though it was slow going.:: Loren: Lieutenant Baker? I wasn’t aware you were destined for Deep Space 6. Might have made the transport a little less hectic. It’s good to see you here, sir. Baker: Likewise. Fancy meeting you here, Ensign. Loren: What brings you to this sector of space? Your new assignment, I gather? Baker: Well, if I can get through this mess of humanoid flotsam, it’s my first deep space assignment in years. The Darwin. Loren: The Darwin? That’s my posting, as well. Tactical officer. Though I understand I’ll also be functioning as a security officer. Seems to be more common than I was aware of, though I’m certainly not complaining. I understand she’s a beautiful ship. State of the art... and I, for one, am happy to be exploring the galaxy. ::He seemed quite proud of that, in fact. After all, it did fit quite well with Toja’s particular interests and experiences. The fact that he got a smile in return bode well – never bad to have at least one acquaintance on board.:: Baker: Hey, congratulations. Small galaxy, eh? ::He noted that Baker seemed just as perplexed about this station as he was, though he obviously didn’t show it as much, as he got put on “point.”:: Baker: I’ll let you lead the way Ensign, and feel free to put those Academy muscles to the utmost potential to get us through here. ::He couldn’t help but chuckle, nodding his head slightly.:: Loren: Aye, sir. ::Toja at least remembered at which docking port the Darwin could be found, and that was as good a clue as any. Getting through all of these people was trying enough, but with three duffel bags and a recurve bow, it was all the better. He was as wide as a freighter, and most people didn’t seem too keen on trying to give him the room he needed. His height gave him a bit of an advantage though, and eventually, they found the right docking port. The security officer on duty seemed to be expecting newcomers.:: Loren: Ensign Toja Loren, request permission to come aboard. Baker: Lieutenant Nathan Baker, request permission to come aboard. Security Officer: Permission granted. Welcome to the USS Darwin, gentlemen. You’re newly assigned to the Darwin? ::Toja nodded once.:: Loren: We are, sir. Security Officer: Well then, congratulations on your new posting. Proceed to the bridge and report to the Captain. Glad to have you with us. ::Even being on the low end of the officer structure, it was nice to finally no longer be a cadet. He was treated like a person, now, which was a welcome change from Academy living.:: Loren: Yes, sir. ::After a glance at Baker, wherein he didn’t even try to hide his excited smile, they ventured forth into what he was more than happy to call his new home.:: (( Bridge – USS Darwin-A )) ::Even just the brief stroll through a corridor to a turbolift had him almost lightheaded with anticipation. Sure, it wasn’t the flagship. It wasn’t destined to patrol the borders of Federation space, defending against attacks. It wouldn’t be Starfleet if that’s all that was ever done. A state of the art exploration vessel was the heart of Starfleet, and his words to his mother echoed in his mind. He squared his shoulders, stepping off onto the bridge. He minded his own for now, returning the bridge crew’s inquisitive glances with a polite nod. Before long, he found himself at the door to the Captain’s ready room.:: Reinard: I’m free, come on in and take a seat. ::He stepped in, and took a moment to set his bags down with some semblance of order. He remained standing, until Commander Reinard offered otherwise.:: Baker: Thank you, Captain. Loren: Thank you, sir. ::He settled into the offered chair, back straight. Definitely fresh from the Academy.:: Reinard: Welcome aboard to both of you! Let me see those transfer papers. How was your journey here? ::He reached over to his smallest duffel bag, and thumbed through a stack of PADDs until he found the one he needed. At least he had the sense to keep them in order. He handed it to the Captain, resuming his previous posture.:: Baker: Do the words “Catullan hippie chants” mean anything to you, sir? If so, imagine that for the better part of nine hours. My head is splitting. But, that being said, I’m happy to be here. ::Toja’s face shifted a little, into an almost bemused smirk. It seems he suffered the same fate.:: Loren: It was... difficult to focus, Captain. I’m glad to finally be here. Reinard: How do you feel about being assigned to this ship? ::That question once again conjured echoes of his mother’s protests. He didn’t want to sound cliché for a new Academy graduate, but he spoke his mind.:: Loren: I couldn’t have asked for a better assignment, sir. Exploring the unknown is Starfleet’s most important mission. I’m glad to be out in front. oO Just don't ask my mother for HER opinion. Oo Baker: Quite happy to be here Captain. Can’t wait to get back to it; it’ll be like riding a bike I imagine. ::Toja took a moment to study the Captain, his facial expressions, nonverbal responses to what he and Baker were saying.:: Reinard: I’m sure you’ll both settle in fine and enjoy it here. Get your quarters assignments from ops and I’ll see you shortly as I’ll be calling a meeting of senior staff. Bye for now. Baker: Thank you Captain. Loren: Aye, sir. ::He rose from his seat, and made quick work of collecting his belongings, and departed with Baker. He hoped his first impression was a good one. He still felt rather awkward in social situations, but his final exam at Starbase 118 had done a bit to help loosen him up. A hand at his back caught his attention.:: Baker: Well done Ensign, you made a good first impression. Loren: I hope so, Lieutenant. Surprised no one asked me about my bow. I was going to get something to eat, would you like to join me? Baker: You go ahead. I’ve got a date with the warp core, but I’m sure I’ll catch ya later. Loren: Understood, sir. Have a good day. Baker: Take it easy. ::He stepped onto the turbolift and pondered his destination. He knew where the crew quarters were on the ship.:: Loren: Deck eight. (( Deck 8 - USS Darwin-A )) ::The turbolift started on its way, which was a very short trip. Only when the doors opened did he realize he missed something rather important. He set down one of his bags, and tapped his commbadge.:: Loren: =/\= Ensign Loren to bridge. =/\= ::The voice on the other end was female. Seemed friendly enough.:: James: Go ahead. ::His self-amusement was evident in his voice.:: Loren: I seem to have misplaced my quarters. ::There was a momentary pause where he almost knew he was being smirked at.:: James: Deck nine, section three, compartment seven. Welcome aboard, Ensign. ::At least she was efficient about it.:: Loren: Thank you. Loren out. oO That could have gone worse. Oo ::He doubled back to the turbolift, and made his way to the proper deck. Then he trekked along the corridor until he found it. He knew that junior officers’ quarters were dual-occupancy, but no one else seemed to be home. He stepped into his bedroom, and let his bags hit the floor. Empty, save for the standard furniture emplacements. But it was his, and that’s what mattered. He set his bow on the table. He’d have to find a suitable mount for it when he’s not using it. He’s glad no one remarked oddly on it. Hard to explain these things. He almost started drooling when he caught sight of the replicator. Better eat while he had time. Something hearty, that’d last him a while.:: Loren: Computer, beef barley stew. ::He might be a Trill, but there were certain tastes he picked up at the Academy that’d stick with him for life.:: TBC ---------- Ensign Toja Loren Security/Tactical Officer USS Darwin-A - NCC-99312

((Deciduous Forest - Unknown Realm)) ::She could smell the forest before the darkness faded to reveal it. The sharp, crystalline scent of deciduous chill playfully tickled her nose and was followed by the appearance of colour. Yellows, golds, and oranges were tinged with undertones of red. Beneath her feet, a carpet of the bright hues softened any of her movements but there were still leaves that clung to the limbs and branches, not quite ready to hand over the glory of Autumn to Winter's kiss. It was a scene that held a hint of familiarity among the unfamiliar, a forest of her dreams, perhaps, or a conglomeration of places she had visited in her various travels on Terra with her family. She twisted about, behind her a path stretched on to infinity, but somehow she sensed she had already come down that path and it would do no good to backtrack for to do so would get her no wear. She returned forward and was faced with a decision. Before her, two paths stretched onward, one angled to her right, the other to her left. The one to her right was more pronounced, the leaves well trampled, the path clear. The other, to her left, was less obvious. There was a sense of direction, but if it weren't for a certain arch of the trees, a specific way the bushes bent back, it would be impossible to tell that there was a path there at all.:: Varistha: So which will you choose? ::The voice startled her and Alora literally danced to the side and whirled about only to meet the gaze of the ancient Kubarey who had entered naked when first she saw him. Fortunately, he was currently clothed, but his sudden presence startled her and her eyes went wide in her surprise.:: Alora: Whoa...where did you come from? ::The question was first answered with a soft chuckle.:: Varistha: Where do any of us come from? Alora: I think that's a matter that is in universal contention. ::Her answer spurred another chuckle and he nodded as he leaned against the gnarled cane clasped in his right hand.:: Varistha: Well then, perhaps it's one we shouldn't worry about an answer to. Rather, perhaps you should focus on a more immediate question. ::Alora followed the old Kubarey's gaze back to the paths in question. They remained unchanged save for a gentle dancing of leaves across as the wind teased them into a dance. With the wind's kiss, the forest commenced a whispered song, the breeze sighing its melody and mingling it with the branches' gentle clatter and the leaves' soft, enthusiastic jangling.:: Alora: Where do they go? Varistha: Another good question, but one I can not answer with too much clarity. They are the paths of your life. You must choose which road to take. ::With his cane, he pointed to the clear path.:: Varistha: That one is easy, comparatively. You can see it. The obstacles will be mild, the burdens light. It's a guarantee to a happy ending with little trouble on the way. ::The cane arched up and over to direct the girl's attention to the other path, barely visible as several leaves danced upon the wind to come and rest upon their fallen brethren.:: Varistha: That one. That one is less certain. There's a happy ending, but even so it depends on whether you master the obstacles upon the way or the burdens that will weigh upon your shoulders. Yet, the reward that it leads to is greater. Via that path, you will reach your heart's desire. I must warn you, it is more difficult than even I can say, but perhaps it will be worth it. If you can traverse it. ::The cane lowered and he allowed it to bear more of his weight.:: Alora: What a choice. ::Alora's lips twisted into a smile as she pondered first one path, then the other. They stretched out before her, both twisting then rising so that what was ahead could not be discerned. One offered certainty, it's ending unknown but pleasant. The other offered hardships, perhaps even danger from what she could glean from the old man's tone, but its reward was greater.:: Alora: Only two paths? Varistha: Which will you choose? Alora: I would ask you that question. Varistha: My choice has already been made, my path already traveled. Neither of these are mine, but yours to take. ::It was a difficult to choice to make. Would the road less traveled offer a reward great enough for its trials? Would she feel a sense of accomplishment if she took the easy route? For a while she remained there, eyes shifting between the two.:: Varistha: I fear you must make a choice. Your time is almost at hand. Alora: I'm on the clock, huh? ::Eyebrows arched up at the comment, but it also produced another smile.:: Alora: All right. I'll choose. ::Right, or left? Alora stepped forward, one foot in front of the other, but she angled neither way. Rather, she approached the line of trees that rose between them. The underbrush was thick and crackled as she plunged through it. One hand pressed against a trunk to allow for better balance as she clambered over. She had forged only a foot or so when she heard the Kubarey call to her, bewilderment rippling through every word.:: Varistha: What are you doing? ::With that hand still braced against the trunk, Alora craned her neck to peer back at him.:: Alora: There was a famous poet on my planet by the name of Robert Frost. He wrote a poem once that said this. 'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim Because it was grassy and wanted wear, Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I I took the one less traveled by And that has made all the difference. ::The Kubarey allowed himself a moment to ponder the words, then spoke again.:: Varistha: But you took neither path, either the one well worn or the one less traveled. ::Alora's face brightened, her smile twinkling within those emerald eyes.:: Alora: You're right. I didn't take either of those paths. :: she paused to face forward and continue onward.:: I'm going to forge my own. ***** Lt. JG. Alora DeVeau Science Officer USS Mercury

((Observation Lounge, USS Atlantis)) ::Ren Rennyn had arrived in time to find a seat, nod hello to those he'd met, and even learn a few names he didn't know yet. Perhaps typical of a newly formed crew, a few seemed stressed by the travel and the sudden change in assignment. But typical of Starfleet crews, there was always someone with a friendly smile to point out the way. Now, Ren faced something different. Telnoth Haerin, the Grenushi ambassador, was eyeing each of them in turn with a sidelong glance. It wasn't just the condescending tone of his voice or the way he positioned himself away from the rest of them that Ren found off-putting about him. There was something in his eyes that told you you were small, and that was uncomfortable in its unfamiliarity to Ren. Back home in Arnmere, Ren was known for being the tallest man around. He didn't think of his height as extraordinary, but when it came in useful for others, he was glad to help. He hardly had problems with self-confidence - low self-esteem wasn't really a trait Starfleet officers could afford to hold on to. So he had no reason to be threatened by the Grenushi ambassador, especially considering that Federation citizens, maybe particularly those in Starfleet, had no place for that kind of disdain. Back home in Arnmere, Ren never would have dreamed of looking at someone with that much judgement. He wouldn't even have had those thoughts. It never made sense to Ren why anyone would waste their time putting others down, trying to build themselves up by lowering the people around them, bending others to their will, fighting to get their own way in trivial matters. As though it would make them seem more substantial. On planets like Trill, Earth, Betazed, those kind of selfish personality traits didn't have a place these days, and hadn't for a long time. He would have to get used to encountering that attitude out here. They'd learned about this in the Academy, in courses on making contact and creating effective communication with other cultures. Just the fact of being in San Francisco with cadets from all over the galaxy, representing hundreds of different worlds, was a daily lesson in getting along. Sure, everyone had their downfalls along with their strengths. Ren knew he did. It was knowing that and accepting it that made it easy to face someone like the Telnoth with the kindness and courtesy Starfleet officers were expected to show to any person they met. So, the next time Haerin glanced his way, Ren met the gaze with a friendly face and a modest smile. It seemed in that moment, though the Telnoth's face remained unchanged, that something deep in his eyes disapproved of Ren's very existence. The Trill ensign looked away, deciding to let that be and look only at the captain the rest of the meeting. Commander Blueheart was a man Ren liked, a captain who had obviously taken those same classes on cross-cultural communication not so long ago. He welcomed Haerin with that Federation kindness Ren was looking for. Blueheart explained the mission ahead of them and began giving out assignments to the crew.:: BLUEHEART: Mr Rennyn. The Uzoka system consists of two planets orbiting a yellow star, and lies on the border between the Valcarian Empire and the Beruna Province. Plot the shortest possible course to the system while keeping our distance from the Jenatris Cloud. You may utilize the Astrometrics lab if you so wish. RENNYN: Aye, sir. ::At the same time as he listened to the other assignments, getting a feel for who they all were and also what they'd be working on for this mission, Ren also began to think about his task. He knew a good amount about stellar cartography and astrogation, but he had little experience in the kind of Astrometrics lab the Atlantis had aboard. It was going to be fun learning about it!:: BLUEHEART: Oh, and Mr Kirosa? Congratulations. You’re chief of security. KIROSA: I- uh.... Thank you, sir ::There was a murmur among the crew at the news, and Rennyn offered a smile.:: RENNYN: Well done. ::He'd noticed Kirosa earlier when most of the crew gathered and came aboard Atlantis, but he hadn't had a chance to speak with her. He'd met a few Orions in the past, but never spent time with any. He was very interested to get to know an Orion.:: ::Ren also offered his congratulations to Lieutenant Anora. The briefing seemed to be coming to an end when Blueheart ended the conversation with Haerin. Ren decided to be brave and meet the Telnoth's gaze again, offering that same friendly face. But after a gracious, ambassadorial thank you to all the crew, the Telnoth swept out of the room without glancing at the Trill again.:: ::After the captain gave more instruction, Ren moved quickly from the room with most of the other crew. There was much to be done before 0600.:: Ensign Ren Rennyn Helm Officer USS ATLANTIS NCC-74682

(Flyer class shuttle “Stinger”) ::Since he was traveling alone, Mitchell had a plotted a different course from any other ship making the journey. Instead of a least time course, instead he had set out in the general direction of the tunnel to DS-26. Which just happened to take him in the direction of Sol. But Earth was not his intended destination. Instead, midway through the journey he adjusted course for a much more historical destination. Since just off the computed course lay Wolf 359, site of the original battle to stop the Borg. :: oO I’ve never been to see it, so why not now? Oo ::As he neared the system, the computer picked up the automated warning beacons that marked the battle site as a historical area, and was not be entered. He dropped the Stinger from warp and entered the system on impulse. As he approached the beacons, he slowed to thrusters then stopped, floating in space just outside the designated battle zone.:: oO There’s still debris out there, even now. Oo ::He sat in silence, staring out the front “windscreen”. This place marked one of the worst disasters in Starfleet’s history. One of their own had been turned against them, and ten thousand plus had paid the price to try and stop it.:: oO Did Hebron get forced to turn against us like Picard did? Was there someone out there pulling the strings like a puppet like that Borg Queen did then? Oo :: He let his thoughts roam over all that had happened. As he did, he found himself thinking of Captain Sisko from DS9. His first ship, the Saratoga, had died out there in this system. Yet Sisko had found a way to go on. Becoming the CO of DS9 and doing all that he had done with that station, and the Defiant, all that fighting in the Dominion War. :: oO Somehow he found a way to go on with his career. He didn’t just take his son and disappear into history. He grieved but then went on to make history. Oo ::Now Mitchell had to find a way to go on. To find a new path aboard a new ship, with a new crew.:: oO Its not going to be easy. Oo ::Both of the two men he called his best friends were now gone. Vannini was back in Sol, raising his kids and working on ships at Utopia Plantia. Now Tyr was gone back to Ba’ku, probably never to leave again. Another friend and mentor, Steve McCall was who knows where in the universe. The last time he had heard from him, he was helping to Rei to raise their daughter, having given up the sneaky world of Intelligence. He had never been close to anyone else in the crew, except for competing with Eskyys from time to time. Also, in the entire time he had served aboard the Discovery B and C, he couldn’t remember ever making anything more than useless chit chat with Raj outside of the needs of a mission or the requirements of duty:: oO Except for that one time. But not supposed to talk or even think about that anymore. Pulling a phaser on the XO wasn’t exactly smart. But least the judge let me use the same rational they let Will Riker that time. Oo ::Plus now with the Discovery gone, he had lost the home had had known the longest. So he had to settle into a new ship, with a new crew and a new routine, under a new Captain.:: oO Not going to be easy to not compare how Blueheart does everything against what Tyr would have done. But I have to give him the chance. They have completely different styles. Tyr was always the bird of prey, circling, looking for action, a time to pounce, while Raj seems to be more passive, much more inclined to talk through things. Oo ::The Intrepid class was a hot design when it came out, but it was a still a light cruiser design, more set up for science and scouting missions than heavy combat. It just seemed weird to be serving on such a ship after so long on ships set up for more militaristic duties such as the Akira, or the Sovereign.:: oO Now the Bellerophon did a pretty decent job as Admiral Ross’ flagship during the war, so an Intrepid can hold her own. Just not quite armed enough for my tastes. Oo ::His thoughts were interrupted by the computer detecting a sensor contact approaching.:: oO Who else would be out here? Oo ::He turned his attention to check the contact, and it’s codes revealed it to be a Starfleet Sabre class light cruiser/destroyer named the USS Kverkjoll. And it was closing on him fairly fast.:: oO Wonder what they want? Oo KVERKFJOLL: =/\= This is the USS Kverkfjoll to unidentified shuttle near Wolf 359. This area is off limits. Identify yourself. =/\= oO Their definitely looking at me. Must be a security patrol or something…Oo MITCHELL: ::Activating the com:: =/\= Shuttlecraft Stinger to Kverkfjoll. Commander Rode Mitchell. I’m just here to pay my respects. =/\= KVERKFJOLL: =/\= Stinger, remain in position. We are enroute for verification. =/\= ::He waited for the Sabre class ship to arrive and drop out of warp.:: oO Must have been nearby. That couldn’t have been more than warp 2 they dropped in from. Oo KVERKFJOLL: =/\= Stinger, this area is off limits. Its classified as a memorial site. No one trespassing allowed. =/\= MITCHELL: =/\= Roger Kverkfjoll. Understood. I wasn’t planning on going inside the designated zone. I just wanted to come pay my respects enroute. I just lost my last ship and am enroute to join my new one. =/\= KVERKFJOLL: =/\= Understood Stinger. My CO says that is acceptable, but we have orders as well. Time to leave. =/\= MITCHELL: =/\= Understood. Very well. I’ll get going. =/\= KVERKFJOLL: =/\= We will be tracking you until you clear out sensors. Kverkfjoll out. =/\= ::The ship closed the channel and hung there in space, as if daring him to do something.:: oO Ok, its time to make my peace and get moving. Oo ::He closed his eyes, summing up all that had happened, then took a deep breathe, holding it for a minute, then exhaled and opened his eyes, watching his breathe impact the windscreen, and pretended it could let his troubles, pains, memories, pass right through.:: oO Guess I should go. Oo ::He activated the thrusters and swung the shuttle around, then went to one quarter impulse, heading out of the system. And like expected the Kverkfjoll paced him, as if they thought he might double back on them.:: oO I may be a lot of things, but I would never desecrate a site like this where so many gave their lives. Oo ::When he was clear of the zone, he switched to warp, and left the system. The Sabre hung with him for a bit, before altering course to return to her patrol. So with them gone, he altered his own course, heading for this Jentaris Corridor.:: tbc Commander Rode Mitchell Chief Tactical Officer USS Atlantis

((Evolution Bar, Deck 6, Drive Section)) ::Kael knew that the Commander was put in a difficult position and that in essence it would have been easier for him to simply just squash the issue. But he was doing his best to point out the benefits and was in his own way, fighting for his officers.:: ::It was clear to D'Nal that these Stafleet officers had no problem with the relocation and adoption of this Romulan boy. Turning from them and facing the window to his colony he needed to think. Saying yes, was, something that in his knowledge had never been voluntarily done. Why would you allow a Romulan boy to not grow up with a Romulan family when there are so many readily available. However, D'Nal kept coming back to the promise made by the mother of the child. Why would she wish her own child to not be raised as a Romulan, on HIS colony. This prospect troubled D'Nal more than the idea of the boy. :: Thomas: Governor, I don't mean to force your hand on this, but, would meeting the officer and the boy make this easier? ::Greir had been about to suggest the very same thing and quietly let the conversation unfold for now. :: Hheinia: I fail to see how meeting them would make it easier. ::Unless he means easier to emotionally blackmail him.:: Thomas: Governor, the boy hasn't been spoken to regarding this. It's possible, if you ask him, he might not want to. ::Kael had seen the boy's attachment to Graham from his interaction on the planet. While it was entirely possible that the boy might decide to stay on Talvath, he thought it equally as likely that the bond they had strangely developed might indeed be strong enough for him to self determine to stay. As much as a boy of 4 or 5 can self determine.:: ::Turning to face the man D'Nal knew this wouldn't be truly resolved unless he did meet them. He could outright decline the notion right now, but he decided to indulge the officers. Surely the boy would make his mind up for him and choose to come back to his own..:: Hheinia: Very well, bring them here. ::As the officer was summoned along with the boy the group in the room simply waited patiently, and silently for their arrival. The decision that was about to be made involved people and needed to be carefully considered.:: ::As Graham approached the door to the room with security outside of it, he put down Galen. The boy seemed almost impossible to detach from him since his mother passed away. As he put him down, the boy wanted to be picked up again, but Graham had to be firm with him. To Graham, walking in with the boy in his arms was presumptuous and unprofessional. If the Governor was to decline his wish, it would easier for Graham to break that bond, if the boy wasn't in his arms already. The Officer opened the door to find his superiors gathered in the room. Crossing the threshold was a daunting enough experience and he'd yet to have any discussion with the occupants.:: Block: Sirs. : :D'Nal turned as the man spoke and was taken back by the boy and the Officer. The boy was holding onto the man's trousers by his hand. He could be no more than four or five at most. This boy had no idea about what his parents or the Empire thought about Starfleet; he was an innocent. This man was around when he was simply in a time of need and the boy, for whatever reason formed that bond. :: Reinard: Come on in Ensign. Commander Thomas has explained what's happened. We need to hear why this is so important to you. I need to know whether you're ready and able to assume this responsibility - if it is permitted by the Governor. I have to know that you understand what you're taking on before I can give my blessing. ::He tried to keep an even tone that was calm and reassuring. It had to be pretty intimidating coming up in front of the most senior people on the ship as well as the Governor for the planet. Greir wondered whether Graham knew how much he was asking of them. The ship wasn't exactly kitted out for families either and StarFleet tended to avoid assigning them here for that reason. There was no nursery or school here and there never would be. Ashley Malcolm was one of the very few children aboard, :: ::Kael felt sorry for the officer but he needed to do this. What he was facing now, would be nothing compared to how hard it will be to look after a child. He tried to give Graham a reassuring look.:: Block: Thank you Commander. ::Looking down at Galen, who looked a little terrified. An emotion Graham could identify with.:: Sir's, this boy's...Galen's mother made me promise on her passing, that I adopt her son. Hheinia: Commander if I may? ::When no objection came during his pause he continued.:: Ensign, what made you think you could fulfil that promise? ::Graham had tried to prepare himself as best he could for these questions. He knew they were important and he knew that the Governor would be especially hard if he ended up speaking to him. The process had to be rigorous otherwise how would you determine just how good of a parent you would be to the boy. Graham took a breath and responded.:: Block: In truth, I probably shouldn't have promised. I was...and in truth in no position to promise that I will be able to adopt Galen. Hheinia: That is agreed. Why do you think that she asked you to promise. She is Romulan, the boy is Romulan. Why would she wish the boy to be a Human, and in Starfleet? ::Block thought back to the moment in question. The women was very forceful in getting him to promise to her that he would take her boy. She had clearly seen the attachment he had formed with the man but there must have been something else. She wasn't sure the colony would survive and she did not wish her boy to be brought up in it's ruin. She feared, that none there, would love her boy like she would. Graham thought about telling him that, but he knew it would inflame the situation. He didnt' want to not give all the details, but he knew it would also mean he couldn't fulfil his promise. That was all that mattered to Graham.:: Block: She had no family left Sir. She wished to have someone look after him whom she felt would give him everything that she would. In truth I have no idea why she wanted me over anyone else. But Sir, a promise to me is more important than anything. I know it's your decision, but I'll do everything I can to ensure I keep my promise. ::Some might have considered that comment a threat to the discussion, but D'Nal didn't. He was in a room full of people who were passionate about life, and passionate about this boy being taken care of. Could he say he could find someone on the planet that could love the boy, yes he could. Surely, for D'Nal that was the better option despite the passion and the desire of these officers. Looking at the boy, he was still attached to the leg of the officer and looking a little scared he must say. He had children of his own and he knew how he probably felt. D'Nal wanted to talk to this boy.:: Hheinia: ::Crouching down to the boys height.:: Galen is it? ::The boy barely looked up.:: Do you know who I am? ::The boy shook his head, and D'Nal accepted he was at least communicating.:: Do you know who this man is? ::Pointing at the Ensign, the boy spoke.:: Galen: Gaaaham ::Kael smiled at the boy, who did the best he could to say the man's name. :: Hheinia: You know Graham would like to adopt you. So you could live with him. Do you want to do that? Live with him? ::Graham felt a little nervous as the boy seemingly thought about it. He hadn't quite prepared himself for the event that the boy didn't want to stay with him. :: Galen: Yes. Hheinia: : :D'Nal sighed at the boy and his refusal to give him anything that would make saying no more than just his answer. His last hope with the boy would be if he knew of some family then D'Nal rather send him to them.:: Do you have any family Galen? Someone you can live with? ::In a moment that Kael will never forget, the boy reached out his hands in the clear symbol for Graham to pick him up, and repeated what he said before.:: Galen: Gaaaham : :D'Nal stood back up from where he was crouched and watched as a Human Starfleet officer held a romulan boy. If someone had of said to him that someday you'll see a Romulan boy raised by a Starfleet officer he would have told them they were lunatics. No one in the room could deny that this boy, right now, wanted to be with Graham. But there was so much more to it than that. This boy needed to be protected and nurtured. While it appeared that this Starfleet officer was willing to do that, he wondered if he was indeed capable. :: ::Walking back to the window he thought about the repercussions should he say yes. He knew the Empire would not approve but he didn't particularly care about that. He knew his people wouldn't approve, but he knew he could use the story in a positive light. He wanted his Colony to have Federation support and he wondered if allowing this boy to be part of it, would help to bring that closer together. Could this boy, end up moving Romulan and Federation relations towards a positive in the future? D'Nal didn't know, but as he turned around and saw the two again, he didn't feel like he had a compelling reason other than just because to deny this. The sight of them in each others arms, was a symbol he wanted to beam across the empire. This is how great it can be, this is what the future of Federation and the Empire should be.:: D'Nal: ::Breathing a sigh of defeat:: You have my blessing Ensign. ::It wasn't hard for Kael to miss the excitement and relief on the young mans face. He waited as they both looked at the Commander. :: ::He could see eager faces looking at him and waiting for his response. He was the last barrier to this happening and he too couldn't miss the close bong that had already formed between the two. With the Governor having given his blessing and seeing how the two were with each other it seemed impossible to say no. He was sure the boy would be somewhat traumatised by what had happened but he was sure everyone would band together and help Graham through any difficult times with the boy. :: Reinard: There are still a lot of things we'll need to discuss about it, but yes, I grant my permission as well. ::If Graham wasn't a professional Starfleet officer he might have let a little sound of joy out, but he was. He understood the complexity of the decision and he would do as he had promised to do, and look after this boy as best he could. :: Block: Thank you Sirs, I will do everything I can for him. ::Over the next hour and a bit the group talked about the future and recovery of Talvath. Greir grew to feel he could trust the Governor, at least more than he had when the question had been posed earlier. They talked of the future of the boy and how he was to be raised. He insisted that Graham find at least one god parent. He tried to be discreet about it but hoped the message was clear to Graham at least. If he was ever incapacitated, or worse, there needed to be someone ready to step in to the role of permanent carer, so the sooner someone was chosen and included as part of the new family unit the better. :: ::Once business was concluded to the satisfaction of everyone present Greir decided it was time to get a report from the bridge. Looking out through the window he had watched the sky slowly return to a much more normal colour and felt very proud of his team for their work and pleased that Talvath would have a future here. If looks were anything to go by then he was expecting they were about done here and ready to send the Romulan Governor home and the patients they had picked up earlier, assuming they were in a fit state to return home. :: Reinard: Excuse us a moment Governor, we're going to get a sitrep. We'll be right back. ::He ushered Kael across the room. :: Commander, please check in with the progress of those Romulan casualties you arranged to have brought up while I check the progress on the bridge. Thomas: Ay Sir. ::While the Commander spoke with the bridge, Kael put through a call to Sickbay to check on the progress of his rescued Romulans. He had hoped that their injuries weren't too severe and that the time in Sickbay would suffice to have their wounds treated. When the all clear returned from the sickbay Kael gave the order to have them transported back down near the Triage facility. While Kael would have liked to do more for them by the way of fixing their house, he already knew he's overstepped in getting them treated on the Darwin. He would settle for the fact that they are now alive and hopefully grateful for the fact.:: A JP By: Commander Greir Reinard Commanding Officer USS Darwin-A Cadet Steward: UFOP: SB118 Academy and Lieutenant Commander Kael Thomas First Officer USS Darwin-A Simming PNPC Ensign Graham Block Operations Officer USS Darwin-A and MSPNPC D'Nal Hheinia Governor Talvath

((Holodeck 3, USS Garuda))) ::Alora's suggestion that they explore their home planets via the holodeck had been eminently agreeable. Her desire to show him her martial training was met with rather more reserve. Vulcans were by nature pacifists, and whilst Saveron understood the principle of being prepared to defend one's self - he himself practiced the Vulcan martial art of Suus Mahna to a high level - he was aware that Terrans as a species still occasionally employed violence purely for it's own sake. That was not a concept that he found easy to equate with what he knew of Ensign DeVeau, and he had meditated on his reluctance regarding that particular exposure.:: ::Having come to the conclusion that Alora's apparent desire to show him parts of her own life was not disagreeable in principle, he arrived at the appointed Holodeck, dressed in a long, loose robe against the cold of Federation Standard temperatures.:: ::When the doors opened to admit the Vulcan, he stepped into a single, large room. On the floor were mats. A little more than half were made out of some sort of light wood while a smaller section boasted more padding. The walls were lined with various banners that contained script not too unlike Vulcan, but blockier. Alora was already present. Her uniform had been exchanged for a jacket that folded across and tied with a belt and wide, loose pants that billowed as she sat - or rather, kneeled. There was a man with her, an older gentleman around seventy or so. His features were unlike hers with dark, slanted eyes, a rounder face and darker skin. When he spoke, the words clicked and sang at the same time and Alora responded in kind.:: Sensei: Your guest is here. ::The universal translator offered:: DeVeau : Yes, teacher. ::Alora's gaze moved away from the man before her and to the man who had just entered and rose.:: DeVeau: Hey. Ready to learn some Aikido? Saveron: Sochya, Lieutenant DeVeau. The acquisition of knowledge is always agreeable. DeVeau: This is a holographic version of my sensei back on earth, Hideyuki Takeguchi. ::The Vulcan noted the nature of the name and the man's appearance. One of Terra's asian cultures, if he recalled correctly. He bowed politely, never seeing any reason to be less than so to a hologram.:: Saveron: I am Shghren T'Ashaii Savehroahn, and I am honoured. ::The man bowed in a fashion typical of his culture, then straightened.:: Saveron: Were you speaking Japanese? ::He remembered her saying that she was fluent in the language, and it was an asian language.:: DeVeau: Yeah. I can teach you if you want. It's pretty complicated and often allegorical, but it's a beautiful language. ::Of course, Alora was rather biased, but that didn't need to be said.:: DeVeau: Shall we begin? Sensei: Hai. ::The hologram turned and took up position at the head of the room. Alora took a place diagonal to him, but facing.:: DeVeau: It is traditional for the newest students to stand closest to the door. ::Alora indicated a position to her left, which would indeed keep Saveron closest to the entrance.:: ::Saveron inclined his head but moved to the side of the room first to remove his robe and slippers, leaving him standing in a pair of loose black trousers and a close-fitting garment that was essentially a very long, strip of white cloth, wound about his torso and over his shoulders in a complicated interleaved pattern that made it close-fitting but flexible, shifting with his movements. The garment left his arms bare, and the backs of his upper arms were covered in the same pale spots as the back of his neck.:: ::Following Alora’s gesture, Saveron took up the position nearest the door.:: Once in position, Alora turned to face the 'sensei' who bowed. She bowed in return and indicated that Saveron should do the same. The hologram turned and then bowed toward the wall of the room upon which hung a banner. Alora did likewise.:: DeVeau: The first thing we're going to do is the walking Kata. This is the basis for every single move that we'll do in Aikido. Break down the more complicated motions and you'll always find something from this kata. When we do this, always keep your knees just slightly bent. Roll your body forward on the balls of your feet so that your heels are just barely off the floor, just enough to slide a piece of paper under them. When you move you want as little up and down motion as possible. Keep your weight on the front part of your foot and do more of a sliding motion and that will help. Sensei: Hajime! (Begin.) ::The motions were not complicated in of themselves. To someone who was not used to performing them, however, they were awkward and contrary to how most people would move. Both the hologram and Alora performed them with a grace evident of long practise.:: ::Saveron had an innate grace but the movements of the Kata were counter to how he had been trained, to how his body was designed to move. Despite the lightness of his frame his people were built for strength, adapted to a high gravity and a harsh environment, and his movements were overly stiff and lacked the flowing grace of Alora and her sensei.:: ::As the kata wound to it’s close Saveron returned to his resting position.:: Saveron: It is... interesting. The basic principles appear different to that which I have learned. ::And it was always interesting to learn something new, even if he found this difficult. A challenge was not disagreeable.:: ::Saveron’s attempts to mimic the motions were more successful than a lot of students, but was obvious that the Vulcan needed to relax. That was something else he had in common with a lot of newbies. Alora chuckled softly to herself and nodded.:: DeVeau: Aikido is a purely defensive art. If you attack someone, then you aren’t doing Aikido. It uses your opponent’s strength and speed against him to allow you to either get out of the way and run away, or disable your opponent if there’s no other option. ::Alora fiddled with the ties on her hakama and straightened it a little.:: DeVeau: The first rule is to not fight unless absolutely necessary. On Earth, if someone came and tried to rob you, any good Aikido instructor would tell you to just give the attacker what they wanted. Fighting should be limited to protecting yourself and others if you know you’re in danger of bodily harm.:: ::The Vulcan considered the information. It was interesting in many ways, aligning with many of the principles that he had been taught, though not all of them. It was certainly educational.:: Saveron: Violence is always abhorrent; occaisionally it is necessary. ::He agreed.:: DeVeau: Okay, next up, falling! Saveron: You have my attention. DeVeau: While technically there are no attacks in Aikido, we do teach people how to attack so that one can practise defense. It’s done in a slow manner, however, because when you’re learning something, it’s better to start slow. Like...piano. You practise a tune for the first time, you’re not going to go a tempo. You’re going to start slow. Then, as you learn the piece, it gets ingrained in your muscle memory. Once that happens, it doesn’t matter what speed you’re going at, you’re going to be able to perform that piece. Because of that, there are going to be lots of times when you make people fall or you’re falling yourself. So you need to learn how to fall in such a way where you aren’t going to get hurt. Saveron: That is logical. Prevention of injury is preferable. ::And he was interested to see how Terrans practiced such things.:: DeVeau: We start from the bottom and we work our way up. ::Alora sat down on the floor and waited for Saveron to do the same. :: DeVeau: First, the most important thing to protect is your head. So you’ll always want to tuck your chin as you fall so that it’s against your chest and your head never actually hits the ground. We always start at the safest point - on the back. Then we work our way up from there. ::Alora demonstrated and rolled back. She started with her head on the ground, then tucked her chin against her chest. Her arms which had began at a position across unfolded to come to her sides slightly bent.:: DeVeau: When you fall, you want to spread out the impact so that it’s not concentrated in one area and thus increases the chance of injury. If you fall with your arms like this, you’ll keep from landing on your elbow and your hand will be open and slap. Then it will sort of spring back up. You don’t want a hard slap, just a natural response to the fall. Saveron: To absorb some of the impact. Suus Mahna utilises similar techniques. ::Basic physics showed the logic of the method.:: DeVeau: Every time you practise, do it at least ten times. Then we go from a sitting position and fall from there. ::Saveron nodded and, after a moment, copied her motion, chin tucked and arms at his sides and bent ever so slightly.:: ::The obedient student, the Vulcan followed through the falls and rolls as Alora and her sensei taught and guided him, though it was plain that he had difficulty relaxing into the motion. The fact that he had enough strength to effectively push himself off the floor when he caught himself didn’t help his adherence to the technique.:: DeVeau: Maybe you should go see a masseuse. ::Saveron [...]ed his head curiously.:: Saveron: Why? DeVeau: Might help you relax. Saveron: Such would not be culturally appropriate. ::He said delicately.:: ::Alora chuckled softly, then slipped over to the edge of the mat. Upon it near the wall were a pair of dark blue gloves that matched her gi jacket. She pulled them onto her hands, then rejoined her student. :: DeVeau: There’s a lot of contact and sometimes its on the wrists and hands. ::It was an explanation for the gloves, an attempt to keep things comfortable for the Vulcan. She didn’t want to overstep her bounds again. He might not forgive her a second time.:: Saveron: I see, that it logical. ::It was also considerate, although perhaps she found it preferable to avoid such contact after their previous encounter. A spoken command to the holodeck’s computer provided him with a pair of elbow-length gloves that he pulled on fastidiously.:: Saveron: We also practice with gloves in Suus Mahna, though one is not afforded such luxuries in a genuine combat. In which case bare hands can be an advantage. DeVeau: I imagine it could. ::That earned her another one of those blank looks where he tried to puzzle out whether she was thinking what he was thinking.:: Saveron: My people chose peace but we evolved from violent beginnings. We are capable of mental defence; and offence. ::Scrambling someone’s mind was an option, should the situation become sufficiently desperate. He felt it was important for Alora to understand that, unlike Betazoids who used their broadcast telepathy for casual communication, his people’s abilities could be far less benign.:: DeVeau: I know. ::The Vulcan nodded, seriously, just once.:: ::Alora hadn’t ever experienced telepathy through physical touch before Saveron and Saavok, though she’d certainly been around Vulcans, including teachers of the language. While she admitted to learning more about their culture, particularly the differences between certain communities, she was not completely ignorant. She had learned something about their violent history and of the teachings they had adopted. She could certainly see the logic in it, and she could understand why they underwent such drastic measures. Vulcans were extremely strong and from what she had read, they had intense, passionate emotions. Or had if one asked a Vulcan.:: ::The thing was, Alora wasn’t entirely convinced that the Vulcans didn’t have emotion, though some claimed that they did not. Even with those claims, hints to the presence of feelings emerged here and there despite all their attempts. Or maybe, for some reason, she saw it more with Saveron. Or maybe she was simply imagining it all.:: DeVeau: Okay, so the first thing you learn in Aikido are the releases. They’re called that because at their most basic level, they break the hold that the attacker has on you - force them to release you - and allow you to gain control. We’ll focus on the first four today and work our way up. ::Never refusing a chance to learn, Saveron was a diligent if careful student, mindful of his superior strength and having no desire to inflict any pain on Alora, who was gifting him with this knowledge. Saveron was not particularly strong for a Vulcan, but he was far stronger than a Terran.:: ::Some of the movements were similar to those used in Suus Mahna, some were very different. One of them he had difficulty with because his elbow articulated in a slightly different way; species variation. She was a very patient teacher, he gave her the courtesy of studiousness. He did wonder why she offered to teach him thus, and whether she taught others. All of existence was a chance to learn, but there were only so many hours in a day and each was precious.:: ::Yet for some reason it was this perhaps eminently unsuited Vulcan that she was endeavouring to teach this deceptively gentle martial art to. It was his wrists she wrapped her cool hands around as she demonstrated the holds, and taught him how to break them. He could have broken her arm with one hand, but he was careful to use only just enough force to break the hold, gentle as he would be with a child. Who knew when he might have cause to use such techniques against stronger opponents?:: Saveron: Fascinating. It is a very different art to that in which I am trained, though no less effective. I shall experiment with my own trainer. Saavok might also benefit from learning such techniques. DeVeau: Why do you say that? Saveron: He will be smaller than others of his age cohort until he reaches puberty. Our species develops more slowly than those with shorter life-spans. ::And once they reached adulthood, aging slowed markedly further.:: ::Ah yes. It was easy to forget that. Alora had only been around adult Vulcans before Saavok - at least, for any real length of time. Human children changed so rapidly, but Vulcans had more gradual growth.:: DeVeau: I wouldn’t mind teaching him, though there’s just a few things I can do at this point. At the very least I can teach him the releases and practise getting offline which. Both are still very useful and can help protect you, but many of the motions require locks that would damage growth plates because of all the twisting even if you aren’t trying to. I’m...not really too familiar with Vulcan anatomy, but I wouldn’t want to cause him any harm. ::She paused.:: He might be getting tired of me though. Saveron: My son finds your company agreeable. He indicated that you expressed similar. DeVeau: Oh? Saveron: After the Fair. As family we regularly share experiences. DeVeau: I see. ::And the experience she had shared with Saavok had been agreeable, as a Vulcan would say. The touch of the child’s mind had a different feel from that of Kestra - and from Saveron’s. She refrained from describing it. They would probably think her mad. Well...maybe just illogical.:: Saveron: I also find your company agreable. DeVeau: And I yours. I’ve really enjoyed spending time with both of you and I’m glad you’ve allowed me to take up so much of your time. ::Alora had never had an issue making friends, but she had to admit she hadn’t expected to connect with someone so quickly. Not that she minded. Her smile returned as she tugged the gloves from her hands.:: Saveron: I find our mutual experiences both educational and agreeable; a valuable consumption of time. It is, after all, a commodity than can only be spent or wasted. ::And he considered time with Alora to be time well spent. He sometimes found it difficult to relate to other crew members and develop friendships beyond the professional, something that he attributed to cultural differences. With Alora however there had been no such difficulties, and he found her company particularly agreeable.:: DeVeau: I just hope you both don’t get tired of me. Saveron: I consider that there is a low probability of that occurring. DeVeau: You know, if I’m ever...you know, around too much, you can just say that you need some time to yourself. I can get greedy sometimes. Saveron: Should that situation arise, I will do so. ::He said gravely.:: One trusts that you will do the same. ::It would be preferable not to bore Alora with his company if she wished to seek more culturally comparable companions.:: DeVeau: I will, though I doubt that’s going to happen. ::Despite the lack of emotions, the Vulcans were a joy to be around, and quite interesting in her eyes.:: DeVeau: I like being around you, and I like learning from you. ::He, also, found such agreeable.:: Saveron: Then, on that premise, may I enquire as to whether you would be interested in a demonstration of Suus Mahna? ::He didn’t know whether she could learn the strength-heavy martial art, though he would be willing to teach.:: DeVeau: I’d love to! ::Alora knew very little about it to be honest, but she was always open to learning new things. She doubted that she’d ever enjoy a martial art as much as she enjoyed Aikido, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy it at all.:: Saveron: Then I will book the holodeck for an appropriate time. DeVeau: Good. I look forward to it. ******** Lieutenant Commander Saveron Chief Medical Officer USS Garuda & Lt. JG. Alora DeVeau Science Officer USS Garuda

(( Walter Schirra Interior )) :: Well, it wasn't the best plan, but it was all he had and it had seemed to make sense in the moment. The Mercury crew would be fine, after all, under the wing of a Galaxy-class, and there was nothing more that he could do -- or, indeed, wanted to do -- other than get out as quickly as possible. Of course, then the question really did become where he was going. He answered that in spirit easily enough -- so easily, in fact, that he wondered if he hadn't known the answer before he left: He was going to join his grandfather. Whether or not he was going to assist him, he didn't know, but it was the most logical starting point. But how to find him? Wanted war criminals didn't exactly hang their locations on the public nets, so Aron was left to wander in the Schirra, searching the most likely locations, starting (to his intense displeasure) with 83 Leonis, cycling through the places where he'd seen his grandfather, and generally wending back toward Federation space. The difficulty there was that there was definitely a risk of running into Federation starships, and operating from a stolen shuttle -- while it might have been accepted by his former crew back in the Corridor -- wasn't likely to endear him to many other officers. So far, he'd been lucky, but that only lasted so long, and when the Schirra's proximity alert rang out, he knew he'd come to it at last. :: KELLS: Computer, can you get a fix on the approaching ship? COMPUTER: Miranda-class starship, bearing 45 mark 10.8. Warp 8.5. :: Well, that was truly unlucky as it was much more than the Schirra could do except in emergencies. What to do? He could try what the Mercury had done at Nygel and try outmaneuvering it, but they would come out of warp in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but space to twist around. Still, if there was no running, no eluding, and no fighting, he might as well talk. He could do that well enough by now. :: KELLS: Bring us out of warp, and as soon as the ship's out, too, hail them. :: He'd certainly be an odd sight: An old man in a Starfleet uniform, without a comm badge or rank insignia, alone in a shuttle and far from any parent ship. :: COMPUTER: Hail successful. Channel opens now.... :: A small screen in the [...]pit clicked on, and Aron froze. He liked to think that very few things could surprise him any more, but the Architect had pulled a fast one this time. :: KELLS: Arden? Arden Cain?! ((Bridge, USS Altamira)) :: Arden and his crew had spent the last three days conducting trails on the aging warp drive of the USS Altamira not to mention several other key onboard systems. That was, of course, until Arden's Chief Tactical and Security officer informed him that a stolen shuttle was within sensor range. Figuring that it would be killing two, or more, birds with one stone Arden ordered an intercept course. As the minutes ticked by and the Altamira got ever closer Arden was paying closer attention to the various engineering system monitors then he was on the pursuit. The Altamira might be getting old to the point that many would call it obsolete but the crew that manned it were nothing short of the best. Or at least that was how Arden saw it in all honesty. The simple fact was that newer technology did not equate to better results in the case of the Altamira so a little outside the box thinking was required.:: THELEK: The stolen shuttle is dropping out of warp Commander, your orders? MARTINEZ: Whoever it is, is also hailing us Sir. CAIN: Ok, approach from it's aft and close within tractor distance. Arm phasers and ready the tractor beam. With that done, lets hear what they have to say. ::Returning to his chair from the aft engineering station Arden sat down and faced the view screen which gave a decent look of the stolen shuttle that appeared to be of "Federation" design. Once Lt. Martinez, Arden's hot shot helm officer, had maneuvered the Altamira into position the view screen changed from the view of the shuttle exterior to the shuttle's interior. Inside Arden could quickly see an elderly man wearing a Star Fleet uniform without a comm badge or rank insignia. Arden could think of any number of reasons for the man's appearance so as strange as that was for Arden to see, what was stranger was the way the man seemed to recognize Arden. It was only then that Arden seemed to piece some of the details together. Knowing that Lieutenant Commander Thelek, who was dutifully manning tactical, wouldn't fire unless provoked Arden decided to take at least a moment to see if he could find out more from a man that resembled his former CO and friend. As much as he tried to keep up with the adventures of the USS Mercury, there were some things that mission reports couldn't quite convey. Appearantly this was one of them.:: KELLS: Arden? Arden Cain?! CAIN: You seem to be a fair way from the Menthar Corridor Captain Kells. Not to mention, the last person I expected to see today Sir. KELLS: The same goes for me, I'm sure. I had no idea I had strayed into the Altamira's mission sphere. :: In truth, Aron had no idea where the Altamira was operating these days; it could very easily be much different from the theater of operations he remembered. :: CAIN: I suppose it has been a while so perhaps a good place to start would be why you're in a stolen shuttle? KELLS: Well, I'm -- on the run, I suppose. That's the official term. What I'm doing, really, is searching. CAIN: This sounds like a conservation better held in private. Would you consent to being beamed to my Ready Room? :: Aron graced his former XO with a wan smile. :: KELLS: A tempting invitation, but as you've just pointed out, you know this shuttle voyage is not exactly condoned by Starfleet. You may prefer to arrest me and impound the Schirra, hm? CAIN: You know me, I am not going to just throw you, of all people, in my brig especially if there is a reason for all this. But I will need some answers, Starfleet is a bit antsy at the moment about stolen vessels. KELLS: I suppose they are -- and I also would rather speak with you than with a bureaucrat I don't know. Very well. I'll beam aboard. But, Commander -- one request. CAIN: I am glad to hear that. And your request would be? KELLS: Beam me directly to your ready room. I'd rather not be paraded around right now. CAIN: My thoughts exactly, stand by for transport. ::With that Arden watched as the comm channel closed. Turning to Lieutenant Commander Thelek, Arden didn't have to verbalise the order as the Andorian was already several steps ahead. With that Arden then left the Bridge through the aft door and took the quick walk to his Ready Room.:: (( CRR, USS Altamira )) :: Aron's first assessment of the room was that it was pleasant, functional, but definitely cramped. Well, no more than he expected, really; he'd been in the captain's ready room of the Drake plenty of times in his days, though he did remember that being larger, which could have easily been a function of his youth. But wasn't he smaller these days...? :: KELLS: I do appreciate your decision to meet with me, Arden, and not arrest me on principle. I know that you're bound by the rules of Starfleet and the Federation. (beat) As I no longer am. CAIN: ::Giving a small smile:: It is the least I could do and I'm not too concerned with those rules, at least not yet. Unlike my XO I learned early on that rules aren't the be all and end all. Whether that is because of all the time I spent in uncharted space or a number of role models, I don't know. Now that we're in private though, would you be able to tell me what's going on? KELLS: I'll explain a bit more in a moment, but first, may I ask: Have you heard anything recently about the war criminal known as the Infernal? ::Arden paused to think, he and his crew had had an eventful few months and missions involving more then a couple notorious figures but Arden had never heard of anyone by the name of the Infernal. Arden quickly came to the conclusion though that he didn't really want to come face to face with a man who described himself as an infernal.:: CAIN: Of the couple of war criminals I have tangled with since leaving the Mercury, I haven't come across anyone by that name. Why do you ask? KELLS: When I said I was searching, well -- he's the one I'm searching for. You know: My grandfather. CAIN: Oh yes, I seem to recall you mentioning something about him. Certainly seems like an age ago now. Just so we're clear, your grandfather is still considered to be a wanted war criminal? KELLS: By the Federation, yes. I know that he's-- :: "Innocent" was certainly the wrong word; the actions as they were presented -- that the man known as the Infernal was responsible for the genocide of a sentient species -- were correct in letter if not in spirit. Aron's eyes, as he searched briefly for the word he wanted, were blazing. :: KELLS: --he's more complicated than I had expected, as is his case. CAIN: As far as I am concerned, there is nothing wrong with wanting to reconnect with family. As much as I try very hard not to. And the only thing that officially needs answering to is the shuttle because you haven't found your grandfather yet. :: Aron looked sharply over at Arden -- much easier done now than with the screen separating them. :: KELLS: Yes, I suppose that's true. CAIN: I'm sure that I'm not doing anything you wouldn't have done if the roles were reversed. ::Pausing for a moment:: If I thought for a second that things had changed that much, we wouldn't be having this exact conversation, let alone having it in private. KELLS: No. (beat) No. CAIN: Did you want something to drink before you get into it all? KELLS: Yes, please. Anything substantial to eat. And I mean anything. The shuttle has a replicator, but, well, I've been trying to conserve it. No idea how long I might be out there, or where I could stop. CAIN: ::Giving a bit more of a smile:: Anything coming right up. ::Arden quickly moved from his side of the desk to the replicator where Arden ordered a cup of tea, glass of juice and a bowl of Earth styled Irish stew. It took a couple of moments for the replicator which looked as if it was one of the few original parts still installed on the Altamira to process the order but it did eventually producing the three items on a plastic carry tray. With the tray in hand it was a simple matter of returning to the desk and distributing the items to their intended consumer.:: :: Aron waited as Arden moved to the replicator and then back again. In truth, he did wonder if perhaps -- except for the size and the systems -- he wasn't a little better off in the shuttle; Arden's ship looked like it might fall apart at any moment. Yet, maybe that was desirable: If Aron Kells was on the run, then it was better, wasn't it, to be captured by a ship that was coming apart and not a brand new Sovereign-class or some such. Even if that dilapidated ship's captain was his old friend. :: KELLS: Where would you like me to begin? CAIN: The beginning is always a good place to start but admittedly I am most eager to hear, at the moment, why you're no longer a Starfleet captain. :: Aron smiled slightly, though the expression didn't touch his eyes. :: KELLS: Of course you do. Arden, I'm here to prove myself to you, to prove that while the letter of the law might dictate one thing, the right thing to do is what I ask of you. That's what I have to do. Nothing more, nothing less. CAIN: It is my general belief that doing what's right and following the law are the same thing. KELLS: I did so, once, too. Then my understanding of those rules and the order they sought to enforce changed. Another incidence of genocide prompted that -- which brings us neatly back to my grandfather. CAIN: I am not sure that I follow, could you explain that one to me? KELLS: Ah, but where should I start? Why don't you tell me what you already know? CAIN: Well I read the after action report submitted to Command after the 83 Leonis incident, or what I could find at my clearance level, so I am assuming that that was the genocide you speak of. Reading between the lines after that I assume there was some sort of trial given your absence from the Mercury at the start of that next mission. KELLS: Yes, there was. :: Aron was nodding slowly as he spoke, impressed as ever by his former first officer's deductive powers. Not that it should have been a surprise; the Prime Directive had been called into question, and that required a hearing. However, the official reports didn't include the specifics, and so Arden wouldn't have known the degree to which the Mercury crew had been involved; and so the deduction was still a good one. :: KELLS: Although it would be a lie to say that was the only reason, though it may have been a catalyst. And how did you know so certainly, anyway? CAIN: I like to stay as up to date with what's happening on the Mercury and the Menthar Corridor as much as possible. All in my spare time of course, it's a nice distraction. I also heard a rumour that Star Fleet assigned a new vessel to the Corridor. KELLS: Did they? Well, that's news to me, though it's fine; with the Mercury out of commission for so long, Ross would've been CO for a few runabouts. :: Still, Aron hadn't known that Starfleet had been ready to assign a new ship, nor that the Mercury would have been so crippled by its emergency maneuvers. Would he have run, then, if he had? :: KELLS: It was time to go. Starfleet and I parted company a long time ago, I think, and certainly before this-- :: He pointed at his old face and the oldest of the personalities residing within. :: KELLS: --but I spoke truly when I said that the trial was a catalyst. Certainly the Prime Directive was a concern, but the fact that the species there had been genetically tampered with -- well, that seemed, and still seems, to me more interesting. CAIN: Sounds like you were made into the scapegoat and I can honestly say that I do not like the sound of that. :: Aron looked over at him sharply. That was exactly what part of him wanted to believe, of course -- but it was too easy, too simple, too polarized. :: KELLS: Maybe I was. But I think there was something larger going on; and with Starfleet unable or unwilling to look into it, I realized I would forever have my hands tied by administration until I left. ::This time it was Arden's turn to return the look that his former Captain gave him just a couple of seconds beforehand. A frown was also coming to Arden's face just as it usually did on a mission when a seemingly impossible situation just got worse. This time the look was owed to the realisation of the full meaning behind what Kells was trying to impress on Arden. Having to deal with bueacrates or other decietful individuals was nothing new to Arden but the sheer scope presented was new and certainly hard to comprehend. That said Arden didn't doubt for a second that the man opposite him was telling the truth, the pair had been through too much for Arden to think otherwise.:: CAIN: Star Fleet certainly is capable of keeping something like this buried if they wanted to. And if working with the likes of Commander Bale has taught me anything, it is that this wouldn't be the first secret Star Fleet has wanted to keep hidden either. The real question is though, what do you plan on doing now? KELLS: To find out the truth: Who manipulated those people, who built that race? You see, I was afraid -- as an officer -- of the answers I might have found; because I know my grandfather now, and I know what he was ordered to do during the Dominion War. ::Arden paused for a moment to let out a breath that he hadn't realised that he had been holding. Before he spoke again he paused to make sure he worded his next statement correctly.:: CAIN: You're implying that there could be some connection between previous crimes committed by your grandfather and what is happening now. I know that genocide doesn't usually just happen but what makes you think the two events are linked? KELLS: He was ordered, by a very secret treaty between the Federation and the Romulan Empire, to develop a species bred for combat -- a kind of Jem'Hadar for the Alpha Quadrant. Very last ditch, you understand, and never to be used, unless. Well, that time never came, and a good thing, too, because the project failed. The species wasn't sufficiently controllable, not in the way the Jem'Hadar were. The project was terminated -- and I hope you take my meaning, because that's the reason my grandfather was labeled a war criminal, accused of genocide: He'd created life, but it had gone wrong, and so he's remembered for the death. CAIN: I see. I can't say that I fully understand because I don't and this isn't the time to go into those details. ::Pausing briefly:: Perhaps its safer for everyone if we don't. But I certainly do see the connection to your grandfather. If anyone can help you get to the bottom of this current situation, he can. KELLS: And now I'm going to find him. :: Abruptly, Aron stood. :: KELLS: It's time that I left, Arden. Which, of course, means that it's time for you to decide: Do I leave freely? CAIN: ::Remains in his seat as he begins typing commands into his console.:: There is no choice there, of course you're going to leave freely, just not in that shuttle. :: Aron raised his eyebrow fractionally. What was this? :: KELLS: I'm listening. CAIN: The next Starfleet vessel that spots you or that shuttle won't be so accommodating, I would imagine. Not to mention, and more importantly, you're not going to get very far in that tiny shuttle. :: That was certainly true, Aron thought. The modifications Lieutenant Vistain had made were apparently partially responsible for the shuttle's good speed and its high stamina thus far -- or he was willing to spread the credit, anyway -- but it was true that he couldn't putter around the dark corners of the galaxy forever in the Schirra. :: KELLS: No, I suppose not. CAIN: I have a Ferengi runabout in my hangar bay that I have been tasked with returning to Ferengi space. An annoying side effect of those Iconian gateways reactivating. Don't ask, but the point is that you would be doing me a great favor in returning it when you get the chance, of course. As far as my crew is concerned, a former Starfleet captain can be trusted to do that, wouldn't you say? KELLS: I would. Say, that is. (slight smile) Perhaps primarily because it benefits the former captain in question. :: Still, one question twisted Aron's smile into a frown. :: KELLS: But what about the shuttle? CAIN: Already working on that. As the records show you came upon the shuttle in your travels and decided to be the good Samaritan you are, by returning it to the nearest starbase. KELLS: Did I, now? What a good man I must be. :: Again he smiled slightly, but not at his own wit; he understood that Arden was putting himself at risk, since if he returned the shuttle and Starfleet had decided to be angry with Aron, he was advertising his culpability. Still, it was the captain's purview to think through the actions of everyone around him; the lone operator didn't have that responsibility. :: KELLS: You'll still have to return it, of course. They might question you. CAIN: I have no illusions to that but this way gives you more time to get clear of prying eyes. The only other way out would be for you to fight your way clear of the Altamira. Needless to say that I would give anything to avoid that. KELLS: Nor do I think I could, old friend. ::Entering the last instructions into his computer terminal, Arden also stood and waited for his former Captain to make up his mind. Arden wasn't a fool, he knew full well that Kells had probably already thought of fighting his way out. Arden knew that if the roles were reversed, he would have considered the option himself. In this case deception was the lesser of two evils because the other meant having to do Arden's best to arrest or possibly destroy a friend. Arden hoped that Aron saw that too.:: KELLS: I accept. Thank you. :: Aron stood, and offered a hand that possessed neither the plasticity nor the dexterity it once had, but which fulfilled the task of shaking Arden's hand well enough. :: ::Arden took the man's hand without hesitation and shook it gently. The man before Arden might have aged physically almost beyond recognition since the last time Arden saw him but Arden knew that Aron Kells was still the same captain that Arden had grown to trust. And indeed come to call a friend which was a rarity in and of itself for Arden.:: CAIN: It's the least I could do. ::Arden found himself pausing to avoid saying anything that sounded to final. Unlike the last time that the two parted this time seemed as if it would be the last. Suffice to say that Arden didn't want to focus on that even if that was just his imagination playing tricks on him. Giving a small smile he continued on what he hoped was a brighter note.:: CAIN: Just do me a favor, make sure the runabout gets back to its owners when you're done with it. I mean, my latinum stash isn't sizable enough to appease a Ferengi wanting a replacement runabout. KELLS: I will. (beat) You won't see me again for some time, so I say again: Thank you. And until then... TBC! Aron Kells Searcher & Commander Arden Cain CO, USS Altamira

((USS Excalibur - Deck 6 – Brek's Office)) ::After 40 minutes of frantic typing and then some serious editing, Brek was now staring at the final version of his report. It wasn't as long as he had pretended it would be in Intel. Just 500 words of brutal honesty. Once he had come to term with the fact he was the sole person responsible for his behavior, there was actually little to brood about.:: ::He took a sip of the Tarator soup he had replicated moments ago and he winced. It's not that the taste was bad, but, like most healthy food, it looked like something someone else had regurgitated an hour ago. At first he had wanted to go for a nice slice of apple pie, but he had achieved so little, (in term of results), during the drill, that he didn't think he deserved the treat.:: ::Of course, it's not what he had written in his report. Besides, he was a firm believer that when one accepts everything, then all that's tragic, sad or simply unpleasant, disappears. Plus, it was also important to always keep a positive outlook on events:: ::That's how he had come to the conclusion that he hadn't done so bad after all. He had been able to work on the Bridge, and then in the Intel Suite, while previously he would have stayed within the boundaries of his domain. He had also rediscovered a forgotten skill of his: the ability to use common devices, even broken ones, in ingenious ways.:: ::There was however, one area where he had not fared so well: he had remained extremely cautious in the face of danger. He loathed any form of violence and so preferred to leave that sort of activity to others. Was he really to be blamed for having survival instincts that were developed to such a fine level?:: Brek: oO Don't kid yourself, little beetle. If you want take your career to the next level, you'll have to toughen up. Oo ::And how do you toughen up a man of words, bribery and juicy contracts?:: Brek: oO There are many holodeck programms you could use. What about the 'Hound of the Baskerville' one that you have? Running away from a demonic creature would be good for your endurance. Failing this, you could play tennis... eliminate all those nasty toxins in your body. Oo ::Brek humphed, and, wanting to run away from his own thoughts, he sent his report and left his office. He would walk in the corridor until he found a soul with whom he could have an argument.:: ::Sadly for him, the only person he met was his aide Dakarai, who happened to be on his way to a game of tennis. You could tell because he was wearing those dreadful white shorts that exhibited his hairy legs. Then, one thing leading to another, Brek allowed his conscience to speak, and he ended up following what, by his new standards, could pass for a friend.:: ((Deck 6 – Tennis Court)) ::Of course, it would have been a lot to expect Brek to know how to play this silly ball game. So he just stood on his side of the court, holding a weird instrument called a racket. Dakarai told him he would 'serve' and the next moment Brek was rewarded by being hit in the face by a small, but very hard ball.:: Brek: ::He picked the blasted ball up.:: I don't find this game terribly amusing or relaxing, far from it. Dakarai: Chef, you need to catch the ball. You're not supposed to stand over there like a scarecrow. Use your legs and your arms. I'm going to serve again. ::Once again the ball flew towards him, but this time Brek was prepared. He caught it with his right hand, and he 'served' the [...] thing back, with all his might. Dakarai, true to his self, didn't play fair. He shrieked and avoided the projectile.:: Dakarai: Non Brek! What are you doing?! What about the racket? You need to use it. Comme ceci. [Like this]. ::Which of course was just an excuse for the black guy to show off his best tennis moves.:: Dakarai: Let's try again. ::Brek had to admit, the racket was useful, so he used it, and he indulged in that activity called 'playing'. His technique was crap, he knew it. Most of the time, all he was interested in was to try to hit Dakarai. An odd thing really... coming from someone like him, who didn't like violence....:: tag/tbc Lt. Cmdr. Brek Chief Diplomatic Officer/2O USS Excalibur A